


Plant Your Feet

by Peckishdragon



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: 12 Days of Christmas, Homophobic Language, Kid Fic, M/M, Minor Character Death, Reunions, Years Later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-14 02:41:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 23,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12998064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peckishdragon/pseuds/Peckishdragon
Summary: Billy Hargrove always told himself that he wouldn't go back to Hawkins, Indiana until his dad was dead and buried. Well 12 years later, Neil has one foot in the grave, and Billy is tired of running from his past.





	1. Prologue

**Prologue**  
**Hawkins, Indiana**  
**December 1984**

Billy Hargrove had bolted out of Hawkins the night of the Snow Ball Dance. After dropping Max off at the middle school to meet up with her gang of friends, he had sat in his car, music thrashing quietly from the cassette tape. He wasn't sure if he could face another night in that deceptively normal looking house. Billy did not want to have to go home and deal with Neil's clenched fists, and hard open handed slaps, that were more demeaning than painful. Billy was tired of watching people's eyes and their hands, always waiting for the next hit.

Susan's fluttering hands. Always at her throat, or her mouth as she watched her husband beat Billy around the face. So obviously distressed, but not concerned enough to call the police, or leave the bastard. Billy didn't blame her, not really. His own mom had gotten in the way of Neil Hargrove's fists, and it had never ended well.

Max's white knuckles. That was Billy's fault, and he knew it. He had made her life a living hell since the kid had made an appearance in his life. Hell, she probably had an ulcer just from dealing with his shit.

God knows he did at her age.

It was the image of her white knuckles, that convinced Billy it was time to leave this backwards hick town. He couldn't help Max. Hell, he could barely help himself. He had a full tank of gas, and $567 that he had saved up over the past couple of months doing small jobs around town. Billy had always known he was going to have to run, but he thought he had more time. That low churning feeling in his gut told him that tonight was the night. If he didn't get out now, something bad was going to happen. Either he was going to end up dead, or he was going to go ballistic and end up in jail.

Neither option really sounded all that appealing.

Billy drove by the house, hoping against hope that Neil and Susan would be out. Luck, for once, was in his favor. Carefully, he crept into the house, leery of a trap. It wouldn't be the first time his dad had sent Susan out of the house, so he could teach his wayward son a lesson in manners. The house was dark, and thankfully empty. Once in his room, he shoveled clothes into a duffel. He grabbed his mother's necklace from where it hung on his mirror, and fastened it around his throat.

Billy had bought a brand new deck for Max two weeks ago. It was still sitting in his closet, from when he had stashed it, after chickening out before giving it to her. It was suppose to be an apology for his behavior. Now, he supposed it could be a farewell gift, and hopefully she would get the message. All of them.

He was too much his father's son to say, or even write the words. “I'm Sorry” or “later kid.” Hell, he hoped Max knew to get out as soon as she could. Maybe Neil wouldn't lay a hand on her. Maybe the bastard wouldn't break her, like had broken Billy. And maybe it felt a bit like running, but damn it. Billy had to survive too, and he wasn't going to do it in this house, or in this town.

He left the deck on Max's bed, without a note. She would either get the message or not. It wasn't his problem anymore. Billy then grabbed his duffel and his car keys. Neil wouldn't get a note, and Susan would probably be relieved that he was not going to be around, riling up her husband's temper.

His duffel over his shoulder, Billy walked out of the house, refusing to look back. He was going home to California. Maybe he would join a band or something. Anything had to be better than here, drowning in his own blood.

The Camaro was just crossing the state line, when Max got home from the dance. She was still pink cheeked and happy from kissing Lucas, when she found the brand new skateboard on her bed. She knew it was an apology from her stepbrother. She wasn't quite ready to forgive and forget though. She still smiled when she slid it under her bed. She quite thought it was a good sign, maybe one day her and Billy could be friends.

It wasn't til the next day, when she woke to plates smashing in the kitchen, and Neil screaming hoarse profanities, that Max realized maybe it had been more than one message. Stay strong until you can get out.


	2. Chapter One

**Chapter One**  
**12 Years Later**  
**November 1996**  
**Bum Fuck Indiana**

The gas station Billy was filling up at, was a product of a bygone era, on this stretch of desolate highway. And not in a good way, it was less Norman Rockwell and more Norman Bates. It's faded paint was barely keeping the building standing. He was certain that a good storm would blow it over, and unearth the bones hidden beneath the poorly graveled stretch. Billy was pretty sure the guy working inside was an inbred, pig farming, serial killer. Not to put too fine a point on it or anything. He kept one eye on the guy watching them from the counter, and the other on his daughter.

Charlotte was skipping around the Impala, using the break to stretch her legs. She had been a rock star on the trip. She hadn't complained about the long stretches of empty, flat road. She had read a book, or napped. She had asked for him to stock up on batteries for her Discman and had played her Gameboy quietly. Billy was pretty sure eleven year olds weren't normally as chill as his kid was. Sharla had been like that too.

When Billy had showed back up in California all those years ago, he had been a little crazy. Which may have been understating the facts. Just a bit. He had no money to his name, and a burning need to fuck, drink and wreck absolute havoc. And he did. He had been young and beautiful, and willing. He had fucked men, women, sometimes both at the same time. Billy had drank some of the finest wine and some of the cheapest swill. And he had hated himself every fucking morning. Or in some cases the next afternoon.

Sharla had been one of those women. Billy was pretty sure she had known from the get go, that he was boning her for a place to crash, but she had never said anything. She hadn't seemed to mind about the other women he slept with. Or the men. She hadn't liked his drinking though. After the third time of him crashing, black out drunk on her couch, she had set him straight. Either sober up or get the fuck out.

To this day, he rarely drank more than two beers.

Sharla had been his friend. His best friend if he was being honest with himself. Not long after he had started to get sober, she had laid down the line. No more sex for room and board. Billy needed to get a job, and get his shit together. When he had sat there, on the couch trying to wrap his head around the idea of a new him, she had imploded his world with two fucking words.

“I'm pregnant,” had almost broken him.

Clenched fist and the harsh sound of open palmed smacks rang through his ears. Billy had shaken his head and thought about running. White knuckles. Fluttering hands. He would not become his dad.

“Listen kid, I don't want anything from you,” Sharla had said in that melodic voice she had. “We had fun, but I don't love you like that, and you don't love me.” Billy could still remember it so clearly. It had been one of the defining moments of his life.

“What I want from you is for you to get your shit together and make sure you are in this baby's life.” Sharla's light brown eyes bright, “It's time to stop running.”

So he had stopped running. He had gotten a job at auto shop, doing sixty oil changes a day. Billy swore that he wouldn't do it forever. Just long enough to get his own place and start taking responsibility. He had stood at a pay phone in the middle of March and called a number that he had long memorized. It rang twice before Max had picked up.

“Hey kid,” Billy had rasped into the phone.

It took her a moment too long to respond. “Billy?” she had asked in that small voice he had hated. It reminded him of his mom, after one of his dad's benders. The white scar that had bisected her eyebrow, from “accidentally running into the door jamb.”

“Yeah, it's me.” His fingers curled into the cool flimsy metal of the pay phone.

“Where did you go?” Max had asked, her voice becoming stronger. “Neil freaked out.”

“He hasn't hit you has he,” Billy barked into the phone, wincing immediately at his tone.

“No. Billy...”

“Listen I can't talk long,” Billy had whispered into the phone. It wasn't a mistake calling, but he couldn't do it again. It hurt too much. “I need you to make sure you are getting the mail every day ok.”

“Why?” Max asked, always so damn suspicious.

“I'm sending you money. You can spend half of it on what you want or need. But I need you to promise me you'll hide the other half.” Billy had been waking up in a cold sweat too many times since he had reached San Francisco, worried that Max would be stuck. “Every week, okay.”

“Why?” Damn the girl was like a dog with a bone.

“Damn it Max. Please just do it.”

“Tell me why, and I will,” Max had promised, still a pain in his ass.

“It's your escape hatch,” Billy had mumbled. “Use it to get out.”

Max had gone quiet. Billy listened to her breath on the other end of the line and wished for a cigarette. “Okay, I will. Will you ever come back?” His little step sister, so strong and fierce, asked.

“To Hawkins?” Billy snorted a harsh laugh. “Maybe when the bastard is long dead.”

Once he had hung up the phone, Billy had sat on the curb and smoked a cigarette. His hands still shaking from pent up adrenaline. And every single week he had sent Max a portion of his paycheck. Sometimes it was twenty bucks. Sometimes it was a couple of hundred. He never put his address on the envelope, but he did provide Max with a PO Box number, just in case.

Then Charlotte was born. His tiny miracle had been born three weeks prematurely, and so beautiful. Upon seeing her red, angry face Billy had made a vow to her then. He was going to go respectable and give his girl the entire fucking world. Sharla supported him every step, like a true best friend. When he applied for a job with the San Fransisco police department, she cheered him on. And then cut his mullet off. Becoming respectable sucked. Billy did not cry when his luscious locks fell on the floor. He did not care what Sharla had said.

After he had gotten the job with the police department, the three of them had family dinners together every week. By that time, Billy had been damn near celibate for a year. Which had not happened since he had discovered the use of his dick. He had a flourishing career, a plain but practical apartment and a daughter who was starting to toddle around.

Then there was that pick up basketball game at the park. Hot, sweaty, half clothed men playing down and dirty. It had been exhilarating. Billy hadn't played ball in ages, and with none of the aggression he had shown back in high school. Against Steve fucking Herrington, King of Hawkins. Billy still had the moves though, and he had enjoyed it immensely. Until some twink had slammed into him, knocking him to the pavement. Billy snarled, and almost came in his shorts, when the same twink bent over and told him to plant his feet better.

Not an hour later, he was balls deep in the twink, groaning his pleasure into sweat soaked skin. For some reason, the image of those slender fingers pressed into the brick wall of the alley, as they fucked reminded Billy of Steve Harrington. His hips slammed harder, the slender man beneath him panting and crying with each harsh thrust. It was Steve's name on his lips, as he emptied his dick into the condom.

“My name's Shane not Steve,” the twink panted, his forehead resting on his fine boned wrists, as Billy shook him off his dick.

“I don't care,” Billy muttered, as he bent over to pull up his discarded shorts.

Shane laughed weakly, as he fumbled for his own pants. “Yeah, I won't lie big guy, you can call me whatever you want, as long as you fuck me like that.”

Billy took Shane back to his serviceable apartment and fucked him again. Fingers digging into slender hips, as he took him from behind over and over. Teeth nipping, hips thrusting. It was a fucking sexual awakening. Yes Billy had slept with men, but not like this. Without the threat of Neil beating him blue, and calling him _fag, queer, freak_.  He was free.

They spent the weekend secluded in Billy's apartment. Leaving only for condoms and lube. They ordered food in, and fucked on every inch of the place. Billy sucked cock, and found out he was cock hungry. He wanted one in his mouth all the time. He also learned to take it, and he loved it, loved being full. Loved being in control that way.

And then Monday came. Shane found out Billy was a dad, and never came back.

Billy did not consider it too big of a loss. He had his work, his daughter and his best friend. And for the first time in his life, he was fucking respectable.

If he heard his dad's voice in his head mocking him, calling him foul names, Billy learned to block him out.

Mostly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The response to this fic has been overwhelming!! Thank you all for every comment and kudo!


	3. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**   
**November 1996**   
**2 Miles outside Hawkins, Indiana**

Billy was totally wasting time. He knew it, and Charlotte knew it. He watched his daughter drag a french fry through a sloppy pool of ketchup and sighed. His fingers played with his stained coffee cup, and he wished for a smoke. It had been years since he had quit, yet the low grade urge was always there, under his skin.

Charlotte peeked up at him from under her thick rimmed glasses. “Can I have another milkshake?”

“Nope,” Billy grinned, his fingers tapping. “We should get going soon.”

“You said that an hour ago,” Charlotte whined. “And we are still sitting here.”

Billy tried to smile, but it felt like a grimace. Like her mom always had, Charlotte was at times a bit too direct. Damn he missed Sharla's face, her always calm voice, and most of all, her support.

The year that Charlotte started school, and Billy had been promoted to detective, Sharla got sick. Real sick. Though it had taken them all too long to realize it. It was insidious. First she was just tired, achy, working too much. Then she had lost her appetite. Little things that had taken too long to add up. By the time she had gone to a doctor, the prognosis had not been good. They had done everything the doctors had ordered. Radiation. Chemotherapy. Drug therapy. In the end, it had been the fucking flu that had been the last straw for Sharla's decimated immune system. She had fought for four long years, in and out of the hospital. At the end, she had been too damn tired.

It had broken Charlotte and Billy. Sharla had been the rock in their strange little family. They had gone to those bereavement groups. In an attempt to find something to fill a gap, that was impossible to fill. There was always talk about the support system. And for the first time in years, Billy had wondered what it would be like to go back to Hawkins and have that support. In San Fransisco, they had been a family of three. There had been other friends, lovers and co-workers, but nobody who Billy felt comfortable letting see his ugly side. The parts of him that were broken, those that were mended, but never neatly.

Sharla had seen them all, and hadn't judged him too harshly for them. She had accepted them, and him into her life. In some ways, she had reminded Billy of Max. Postcards, holiday cards and the occasional letter made their way to his PO Box still. The kid was unwilling to simply let him go. After all the shit he had put her through during that tremulous year. Max had seen him at his ugliest, and stood up to him, a fucking warrior, and dared him to try her on for size.

Even now, years after running away from that little shit hole of a town, Max was trying to bring Billy into the fold. He knew she had left Hawkins to go to college. She had mailed him an invitation to her high school graduation, and a copy of her acceptance letter into some fancy ass college. Max had requested that he stop sending her money. Billy, always contrary, had become even more vigilant about sending it to her. College was expensive, so he had heard.

The next few years, after Sharla's death, he and Charlotte sort of floated. They were surviving in San Fransisco. They went to school and work, came home and survived each and every day. It didn't feel much like living. Sharla would have been pissed at him. Their daughter was not thriving, stretching her wings or growing.

When Max's letter came, informing him that Neil was dying. Well, it felt like a chance.

A chance to go back and maybe be apart of a support system. And it was past time for Billy to face his demons. He wasn't going to run any damn more.

So he had taken Charlotte out of school, and taken a sabbatical from the department. And proceeded to drive cross country with his eleven year old daughter. Who had just taken it all in stride, like getting out of California was a relief to her too.

And here he was, stuck in some greasy spoon, procrastinating, while his daughter watched him with her too wise eyes. “I didn't think you were scared of anything,” Charlotte mumbled into her plate of dwindling fries.

Billy snorted a laugh, as he flagged the waitress down for their ticket and another half a cup of coffee. “Of course I am, you are the one who has to scare away the monsters in the closets.”

Charlotte giggled into the dregs of her milkshake. “Yeah, but that's just pretend. This is for reals.”

Billy nodded, “Yeah. Listen kid, when I was young and stupid, I was not nice.” Billy reached for his wallet in his back pocket, so he could grab his credit card. “I was one of _those_ kids.”

Charlotte stared at him, her eyes narrowing. “You were a mean kid?”

“I was.” Billy owned it. He had been beyond a mean kid.

“Why?” Charlotte asked.

“Well I could tell you lots of things, that would justify it.” Billy started, but damn it, this was his kid. “But, mostly... I was really mad and scared. All the time.”

His daughter just stared at him, expectantly.

“Well, I guess I thought if somebody was scared of me, then I wouldn't be as scared.” Billy finished lamely.

“That's stupid.” Charlotte noted.

“It really is,” Billy agreed. “Let's get going.”

Charlotte grabbed her rainbow saddlebag, littered with pins declaring her love of anime, books and nerds. His daughter was eager to meet Max. Billy had tried his hardest to give her stories of strong women. Stories about Sharla, and her bend with the wind, stronger than fucking stone mentality. Stories about Max, the hellion with a baseball bat and fierce eyes. And stories about his own mother, that he could hardly remember, and wasn't sure he hadn't made up. Billy wanted those stories to be true, to know that he had come from a strong woman.

Charlotte waited at the door, her dark puffs of hair were lit up by the setting winter sun. She had her mother's dark skin, dark silky hair, and his blue eyes. Billy hadn't done his daughter's hair in years, but he could still remember Sharla insistence that if he was going to be a part of his daughter's life, he would damn well know how to take care of her hair. Billy had learned to braid, and brush and style like a pro. Well, at least a talented amateur. Now, she took care of it, with all the skill that her mom had had.

“Where are we going first,” Charlotte asked, her eyes direct. “The hospital, Max's or the bed place?”

Billy had been dithering over that question for a better part of a day. The closer they had gotten to Hawkins, the more anxious it made him. If they stopped at the one bed and breakfast the town had, Billy would procrastinate some more. The hospital was out, he was not ready to face Neil yet. And he sure as hell wasn't introducing Charlotte to the man. That left Max. He knew she wasn't living in the house they had first moved to. Susan and Neil still lived there. His clever step sister had gotten her own place when she had moved back from college. She was doing something fancy with computers, programing and game design.

 

There was also the small problem that nobody actually knew he was coming. When Billy had gotten the letter from Max, he had started making plans. He had made it almost across the country before getting cold feet. He had her address thanks to the letter he had tucked away in the 1967 Impala's dash. Billy felt the low grade urge for a smoke, as he drove through the quiet streets of Hawkins. He wanted to reach for a zippo he hadn't carried in years, just so he could fidget with it.

Charlotte seemed enchanted with the small town. Coming from San Fransisco Billy could sorta see the attraction. It was small and quiet. It had none of the energy that the bigger city had. It was soothing.

At 17, this place had seemed like a fucking tomb.

Now, Billy could see the appeal. Not that he would admit that anytime soon. Charlotte was also enjoying the Christmas lights that the entire town seemed to be decked out in. Always one to indulge his kid, Billy did a slow cruise through the neighborhoods. Before long, they had driven the entirety of the town. They hadn't ventured out into area where the Byers family had lived. They would save exploring that for another time. The main strip of Hawkins had barely changed. The movie theater was still standing, and playing Jerry McGuire. A Salvation Army bell ringer was standing outside Melvald's General Store, huddled for warmth in a bulky knee length coat.

It was a damn blast from the past, and Billy wasn't sure his nerves were up to it. This place had brought out the worst of him as a teenager. He refused to go back to that. When Charlotte yawned, Billy navigated his way to Max's house. He knew roughly where it was, if his memory of the town was accurate. He pulled up behind a teal blue Geo Tracker, and shook his head at Max's taste in cars. Utilitarian and with absolutely zero flair. Her house was nice. It was a simple little cottage, with a festive wreath on the door.

Billy turned off the engine and opened his door. Charlotte was watching him carefully. “Do you want me to wait here?” she asked quietly.

“No kiddo,” Billy stated firmly. “Max will want to meet you.”

His daughter fumbled out of the car, stopping for a moment to stretch her long legs. Another thing Charlotte had gotten from him, along with his intensity. As a teenager, Billy had been loud and intense. Charlotte was quiet and intense. She was dressed a bit like him, actually, jeans and a black tee, with boots. She accessorized with sporadic, totally random bursts of color. Billy accessorized with his hair and sunglasses.

Billy had procrastinated long enough. With a long stride, he walked towards the front door. Charlotte followed beside him, silently offering support as she held onto his hand. No longer a baby, but still willing to show that bit of love for her old man. Billy paused at the stoop, breathing in the fragrant aroma of pine from the wreath. He refused to acknowledge his shaking hands as he reached for the doorbell. Billy pushed it once, and held his breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, you guys are all rockstars! Thank you! Hope you enjoy!


	4. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**   
**Hawkins, Indiana**   
**November 1996**

The woman who opened the door looked like Max, grown up. Which was shocking to Billy. In his head, he was pretty sure he had been imagining that 14 year old kid going to college and escaping. Growing up, without growing up. She was beautiful. Max had cut off her long red hair at some point. She had a sassy pixie that drew attention to her intense eyes. Billy couldn't help but wonder if Neil had tried to force femininity on Max, and this had been one way for her to rebel. After all, that is what Billy had done as a teen, with his mullet and earring.

It suited her immensely.

Charlotte squeezed Billy's hand, and it spurred him forward. “Hey kid,” he said. “It's been awhile.”

Those blue eyes, always so damn inquisitive watched him carefully, as her head tilted. “Billy,” Max murmured, her eyes looked suspiciously damp. She wasn't crying, Billy remembered quite suddenly that his little step sister hadn't been a crier. At least not where anybody could see or hear her.

“Maxine,” He joked cautiously. “I've missed your face.”

And there it was, that smile. It had rarely been directed at Billy back in the horrid old days, but he had seen it a time or two. Normally directed at Lucas Sinclair or Dustin Henderson. And wasn't that a damn time machine.

“Don't call me Maxine, asshole,” Max stepped forward, telegraphing her intention to hug him. For once in his life, Billy did not shy away from the contact. For a few moments, he simply savored the feeling of being hugged. Having raised a small girl, Billy was quite used to random glomping hugs. The surprise hug. The hug that ended up with knees in his junk, the sick hugs. He's experienced all the hugs. It had been years since he had an adult hug. It was nice.

Too soon, Max untangled herself from the hug, and stepped back. She smiled watery down at Charlotte. “Who's this?” She asked quietly, as she gestured them into the foyer.

“This is my daughter, Charlotte,” Billy stated. He remembered the words he had said to Max about Lucas Sinclair. Never in his life had he felt as dirty as when he had uttered those words, parroting Neil. Well. No, he had felt even dirtier on the day he had attacked the kid. Billy prayed his daughter never heard about those words or actions. However, if she did, he would own up to them. He had learned over the years to take responsibility. No matter how painful. Adulting fucking sucked.

Max simply smiled at them, and welcomed them into her house. Charlotte seemed fascinated by her. Her flaming red hair, cropped short. Her minimalistic décor. The one room that was full of computers and tech stuff Billy didn't even pretend to understand. Billy and Charlotte sat at a ranch style kitchen table, as Max bustled around the kitchen making coffee and hot chocolate. His daughter leaned into his arm as she watched her pseudo aunt. Billy was watching Max too. It was hard not to. It had been twelve long years, and she had really grown up. She had been clumsy as a teen, always tripping over her own feet when she wasn't on a skateboard. Now she moved with an economical grace that suited her. When she finally sat down, it was obvious that she was doing her own staring.

“I'm glad you came,” she said, before taking a gulp of her coffee. “I wasn't sure if you had gotten my letter.”

“Yeah, sorry for the lack of notice,” Billy started, “I didn't know I was going to come, until we were on the way.” It was bullshit and they both probably knew it. He had planned meticulously until it had come to what he was going to do when he got to Hawkins.

Max waved it off. They sat in silence for a few minutes, and it was sort of awkward, but not. They had a lot to say to each other. It had been 12 years, and they had a few issues to work through. Neither of them felt like doing it with Charlotte in the room with them however. Max chatted with her niece, asking questions about school and hobbies for a bit, while Billy simply watched them. He could tell Charlotte was awestruck and not even hiding her new hero worship. Somehow the conversation had evolved into a spirited debate on the merits of D&D versus Rifts. Charlotte was a hardcore Rifts fan. She played it with a group of kids from her junior high.

Billy put his chin on his hand, his elbow on the table and just enjoyed the scene. Max was arguing that Charlotte needed to leave Rifts behind and join the dark side. Dungeons and Dragons for life. And then Charlotte brought up the secret she had been sworn to secrecy over.

“Dad helped me create a lot of my characters!” Charlotte huffed indignantly at her aunt. “They kick ass.”

“Language,” Billy mumbled into his coffee, embarrassed and secretly pleased. He had studied those stupid books for days, trying to help Charlotte develop some of her characters when she first started. He may or may not have ideas for future characters. Billy ran his hand across one of his daughter's puffs, affectionately. “Well kiddo, we should probably get checked into the B&B, so they don't cancel our reservation.”

“You guys are welcome to stay here,” Max started, going quiet when Billy shook his head.

“I appreciate the offer,” Billy looked at his sister, and cut her off before she could interrupt. “No, I do Max, but I don't intend to put anybody out.”

“You wouldn't be putting me out, for fuck's sake Billy,” Max sighed. “I haven't seen you in twelve years. You made sure I had a way out, and paid for my college.”

Billy frowned at Max, “that is not the point.”

Charlotte interrupted them softly, “where's the bathroom?”

While Max showed his daughter the way to the bathroom, Billy took the time to organize his thoughts. He did not want to argue with Max or seem ungracious. He had to get this right. He was tired of stumbling and getting this wrong.

When Max came back into the kitchen, she had that mulish look on her face, like she was ready to throw down. Billy sat down on the bench and looked up at her.

“Listen, before you yell Max,” Billy sighed, running his fingers through his short cropped hair. “I did not come back to make peace with Neil. I came back to confront a demon. To try and stop running from my past.” He watched her face. “I refuse to put you in the middle of that.”

“Maybe I already am?” Max sighed too. “Listen Billy, me and Neil aren't exactly on the best terms.”

“Yeah, but you and your mom are still close,” Billy stated, pointing to a brand of tea sitting on the sidebar that Susan had always drank, and Max despised. He wasn't a detective for nothing.

“You are still impossible to argue with,” Max grumbled. “But I insist that you and Charlotte meet me for dinner, after you get settled”

“No arguments there,” Billy said. “I remember what a horrible cook you were.”

“You are still an asshole,” Max smiled.

“Takes one to know one, kid.” Billy shot back grinning. “Your choice were we get dinner, Me and Charlotte will eat anything. Though maybe not diner food.”

Charlotte came out of the bathroom, hovering slightly at the door, obviously checking for the all clear. “Thai food sounds good to me,” the girl offered.

Billy glanced at Max, “I don't think Hawkins has a Thai place kiddo.”

“Actually, we are stepping up in the world!” Max announced sarcastically, “we got a Thai noodle shop a few years back. We are practically cosmopolitan.”

“Well, shit. This I got to see,” Billy played along with Max. “Thai noodles it is!”

The three of them smiled at each other, before slowly trickling out to the foyer. Billy knew they were dragging out good byes, which made no sense. They were going to see each other in a few hours.

The single B&B in Hawkins was situated in an old gothic style house. It was ran by a middle age couple in their late 40s. Back in the hellish days, the local housewives had been pretty handsy with Billy. Especially his bum. It was nice to meet one now, that left his ass unmolested. He would be staying well away from the Wheeler residence in particular. That woman had been a menace. Not that he hadn't egged her on, in his own way. Back then, it had been a means to and end, he had needed information, and he had gotten it.

Billy shook off his reminiscing and walked Charlotte to the small bedroom, with a connecting door to his. It was a bit...well lacy. Dollies were situated absolutely everywhere. On the full size bed, on the side tables, dresser. It was rather intense. With a bit of trepidation, Billy went to his door and cracked it slightly. It was full of sunflowers. Everywhere. Fuck. Charlotte followed him in and couldn't stop giggling. The little traitor. The room was practically glowing from all the damn yellow. It went beyond cheerful, and into slightly demented.

It would be a relief to get out of here for dinner. In fact, Billy didn't think the two of them would be spending much time here at all.

Charlotte went to her own terrifying room, to freshen up. Billy sat down on his yellow bed, and took deep breathes. Being back in Hawkins was bizarre. It had been awesome seeing Max. A shock to the system to see how little the town itself had changed over the years. However, he was not ready to confront Neil. He knew what he wanted to say to him, in theory.

“I fucking hate you,” just sounds so angsty teenager. “You have no power over me,” too much like that muppet movie with David Bowie. The best revenge that Billy knew of, was that he would not become his father. He felt like he had a pretty good grasp on that, these days at leasts. Maybe he should just play it by ear, hope for the best and expect the worst. The one thing Billy knew for absolute certain, he would not subject Charlotte to the man. Ever. His daughter was beyond Neil Hargrove's touch. Hell, he had refused to let Sharla give Charlotte his last name. It was dirty, and it would not affect her.

Billy laid back on his mustard yellow monstrosity of a bed and closed his eyes. He would deal with Neil tomorrow. Tonight was for catching up with Max, and letting her and Lotte bond. He could hear the shower running, Charlotte would be getting ready for at least an hour. He could take a small nap. Billy kicked off his shoes, and curled up. He couldn't believe he was back in Hawkins, Indiana.

With a groan, he rolled over so he could stare up at the ceiling. Luckily, it wasn't covered in sunflowers. Billy hadn't really given himself a chance to think about other people who may or may not still be in this town. He couldn't help but wonder if he would be running into Steve Harrington anytime soon. Would he be with a pretty society wife, or still chasing after Nancy Wheeler. Or would he have that edgy energy that Billy had fed off of as teenagers. A walking wet dream. One that he had wanted to destroy, thanks to Neil's constant degradation. _Fagot. Freak. Queer_. Words that no longer held any sway over him. Billy was out, he was proud, and neither Neil Hargrove nor Hawkins would put him back in the closet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I am a bit late with posting tonight, Star Wars had to happen! As always, you guys are amazing! Enjoy!


	5. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four**   
**November 1996**

Steve was walking down Maine Street, humming thoughtfully under his breath. His saddlebag full of homework was slung over his shoulder and he was ready to do some grading. He was going to meet up with Chief Hopper for their weekly coffee at the diner. It was tough being a math teacher at the Hawkins middle school. His social life was for shit. His closest friends were either 20 years older than him, or five years younger. He spent most of his free time dreaming about a tropical holiday. Somewhere very far away from Hawkins. With naked men drenched in oil. Maybe the budget could stretch for a week over holiday break in Jamaica. Or that resort that catered to the young, hip and gay, that he heard about during his last trip to Indianapolis. Not that Steve was feeling particularly young or hip.

One of the local store fronts was fully lit up, with banging and music. Steve poked his head in, laughing when he saw Dustin, Will and Mike arguing over the right way to hang drywall. They all were still inseparable, though they had gone their own ways during college. Steve loved them like the younger, shit head brothers his parents had never gave him, so he had adopted.

Lucas had joined the marines after high school, and was currently studying to be a doctor. They didn't get to see him as often as they would have liked, but he still came home when he could. Dustin had discovered his love of animals, of all shapes and sizes, with Dart. He had finished school, and was now a licensed vet, getting ready to open his own practice in Hawkins. Will, hadn't surprised any of them when he had gone to New York for art school. It had been shocking when he had come home, and decided to become the art teacher at the high school. That place had not be kind to Will Byers. Mike, well he knocked El up when he was a senior. He had barely lived to see his 18th birthday. Chief Hopper still looked at Mike like he wanted to dismember him, even though the man adored his granddaughter.

“Steve, shut your pie hole and get over here and help us,” Dustin yelped as the dry wall shifted.

Steve dropped his saddlebag on the saw dusted floor and joined in the fray. He ended up with drywall in his hair, and running out the door ten minutes late to his coffee date with Hopper. He was surprised those kids ever got anything done. If there was more than one way of doing anything, they would bicker about it until they were blue in the face. Yet, they would unite against anybody who questioned them. The loyalty they had for each other was inspiring. Steve was always envious of them for that friendship. He had a good friendship with Nancy and Jonathan, but he had come back to Hawkins, and they hadn't.

Steve just couldn't leave Hawkins. He felt oddly protective of the town. Maybe that is what happens when you battle a Demogorgon and a pack of demodogs with a bunch of brats. He may or may not carry that trusty, rusty nailed bat in the trunk of his car still.

Steve waved, as Joyce Byers honked a greeting at him. She was now the manager of the general store, and secretly not so secretly dating Hopper. The two actually thought they were fooling the rest of the town. And maybe the general populace hadn't bought a clue yet, but for those close to them, they were flashing neon signs. Idiots. Steve smiled to himself. His own parents had divorced about ten years ago, and while he was technically too old for surrogate parents, Hopper and Joyce had pseudo adopted him anyway. Joyce had actually been the first person he had come out as bisexual to.

They had been sitting outside on the porch, smoking pilfered cigarettes. Steve had been terrified. He couldn't imagine telling his own parents, but Joyce's opinion had meant a lot to him. It still did. Steve had come back from his first year of college. His parents had been in the middle of a nasty divorce, and he had realized that boys got his motor revving as much as girls. He had stuttered it out, confused and so conflicted. She had simply shrugged, and told him that love was love. When he was done wiping his manly tears away, Joyce had informed him that Will needed a good role model. One that understood being different, and loving differently.

Steve had never been entrusted with something like that before. Sure he had been a comrade in arms, and a babysitter, but never a role model. That was slightly terrifying. What if he fucked it up?

Considering that him and Will were still great friends, who occasionally went out on the pull together, Steve felt he had done a decent job. And it had been what inspired Steve to apply himself to teaching. Home from college, during a session of D&D in the Wheeler's rec room, Steve had helped a struggling Will with his algebra homework. Seeing the kid finally get it, had been one of the most rewarding experiences of his life. It had been what Steve needed to throw himself into his school work. He stopped partying quite so hard, and applied himself. He had walked at his graduation, knowing that he had a job at Hawkins junior high. One that he had gotten on his own merit, not his father's name or his mother's money. Or because Steve had sexy hair.

Steve waved at a few students and their parents, before crossing the street to the diner. A new Thai place had gone in a couple of doors down to the old greasy spoon. It was such an odd amalgamation of new and old. Smelling the amazing aroma of spicy food coming out of an old brick building, that Steve had known to be a drugstore was just weird. It had taken the town a while to get used to the new place, but now every family, every special occasion called for Thai food. It was always fun to people watch. Birthdays, anniversaries and first dates all happened at Lulu's.

Steve felt no shame, as he peeked in the large picture window. It was brightly lit, allowing him to see most everybody sitting in the dining floor. He saw Max sitting in a booth, chatting with somebody who looked like Erica Sinclair from the back, but couldn't be. Erica had graduated high school, and was in college now. And she hadn't worn her hair in puffs for several years now. Steve's breath caught in his throat, as he watched a blonde head turn, revealing a profile he knew well. God had it really been twelve years since he had seen that face? Damn it was still a good face. Striking and intense, if less angry than he had ever seen it.

Damn Billy Hargrove had grown up nice. Steve snorted. The guy was probably still a dick though. He cocked his head as he watched Max laugh at something Billy said. The redhead was an awesome judge of character, usually. So maybe he was wrong, it wouldn't have been the first time. Out of the corner of his eye, Steve saw Hopper's Jeep pull up in front of the diner. He turned away from Lulu's and ambled his way to his friend.

“You're late,” Steve accused as Hopper stepped out of the vehicle.

“You sound like El,” Jim snorted. “I'm here aren't I?”

Steve shook his head, the Chief of police still had a horrible sense of time. He was incapable of getting anywhere on time. Steve often made plans with him thirty minutes earlier than he planned on arriving, just so Hopper would only be five minutes late. What was sad, it only worked about half of the time. At least once a week the two men met up for coffee at the diner. It was partially to shoot the shit and trade gossip, but it was also a vital part of checking in. They had learned over the years to keep an eye on the goings on in Hawkins.

Hawkins was a magnet for strange shit.

“How's the baby?” Steve asked, as they sat down at their usual booth.

“Not a baby anymore,” Jim sighed. “Evie is going to be starting kindergarten soon.”

“Fuck. You have got to be kidding me,” Steve groaned. “It hasn't really been that long has it?”

“Tell me about it kid,” Jim took a slurp of his coffee. “I think El and Mike are thinking about having another one.”

As they chatted, Steve couldn't help but wonder about Billy Hargrove and what had brought him back to town. “I saw Billy Hargrove at Lulu's with Max, tonight.” Steve inserted into the conversation, abruptly. “Any news on that?”

Hopper lit his cigarette, “I'm not surprised. I heard his daddy ain't doing so good, over at General.” He took a deep breath of the pungent smoke. “They don't think he'll make it much longer, gut cancer.”

Steve felt a tad guilty, gossiping about a dying man. “Max never said anything,” he explained.

“Yeah, she wouldn't,” Hooper's fingers were full of nervous energy, tapping his smoke on the edge of the metal ashtray. “Neil Hargrove is a mean son of a bitch. He didn't treat either of those kids right.”

“How?” Steve trailed off unsure how to ask how the man knew that, as Jim shrugged.

“Son, my kid has a physic connection, and can sense abuse going on ten miles away.” Jim sighed again. “Unfortunately if nobody comes forward, there is not a lot I can do about it.” He crushed his cigarette into the ash bucket. “I hope that kid came home to give his old man a what for though. That bastard deserves it.”

“I just saw him for a second,” Steve mumbled. “but he looks happy.”

“Good on him,” Jim finished his coffee. “That's the best revenge a man can have.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoy!


	6. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five**   
**November 1996**

Billy woke with a pounding headache, and the taste of a dead rodent sleeping in his mouth. He blinked heavily, before rolling over to check the clock. Only 6 a.m. He wanted to go back to sleep, but once he was awake, his body was up. In his line of work, that was both a blessing and curse. Those calls that came in the middle of the night didn't faze him all that much. However, taking cat naps was damn near impossible for Billy. He got out of the atrocious, day glow yellow bed, yawning as he scratched his belly.

After dinner, at a surprisingly good Thai noodle place, Billy, Lotte and Max had come back to the B&B. Billy had sent his daughter to bed, hoping that she would be able to sleep off some of the road exhaustion. He and Max had taken over a small parlor, commandeered a few bottles of local brew and talked most of the night. It had been good. Really good to be able to connect with her. Max as an adult had understood things about Billy she couldn't as a kid. Things that Billy hadn't really understood himself, even if he had had the patience to try to explain.

They had talked about the gang of misfits Max had befriended. They were her family. It was obvious in every word she spoke about them. There was love and exasperation. They had all grown up, but not apart. Her and Lucas Sinclair had broken up when the boy had joined the Marines straight out of high school. It had been a mutual breakup, and they still remained friends. Max was a proud god mother, even though neither she nor the baby's parents were religious. She babysat every Wednesday morning, and adored kids. Though she didn't want any of her own, much to Susan's continued consternation.

Billy was happy to see that she had grown up good. She was self reliant, she loved her job, and it paid well. Max had made Hawkins her home, and it showed on her face when she talked about her friends, and her life here. Billy didn't feel that way about San Francisco. He had a good job and a good life there, but he didn't have that connection. The roots that Max had planted for herself in Hawkins. Billy wasn't sure if he was envious or not.

They talked about Billy's job with the San Francisco police department. He loved it, but he felt like it was a job he could do anywhere. The homicides he investigated in his part of the world ranged from grotesque to flat out bizarre, but Billy had learned people are crazy everywhere. He told Max about working up from a patrol cop to detective. The highlight reel at least. Billy also told her some of his rather darker moments on the force. Having to face victims of abuse, and sometimes seeing them go home with their abuser. Knowing the next time they meet, it could be as a corpse at the feet of their abuser. Seeing himself in some of the kids he met.

Billy couldn't bring himself to ask about Neil. He wasn't sure if he really gave a shit about the man, or his level of pain. He didn't care if that made him a horrid person. All he could think about was the humiliation and torment Neil had rained down on him, day in and day out for most of his childhood. And the echo of his voice even now. If Sharla was here, she would have claimed it to be karmic retribution.

“Susan is leaving, once Neil is dead,” Max blurted out suddenly. “She says she wants to go home to California.”

Billy blinked slowly at Max. “How are you feeling about that?”

“I'm cool,” Max shrugged. “I mean, I made this place my home you know. And I'd miss the snow if I moved to California.”

Billy laughed hoarsely, “I know what you mean. I thought once I was back there, that the homesickness would go away.”

“Did it?” Max asked, genuinely curious.

“No,” Billy was frank. “I wasn't missing a place, I was missing a feeling I think.”

Max hummed, and took another swig of her beer. She deftly changed the subject. “So where is Charlotte's mom?” She asked quietly.

“She died, about three years ago.” Billy answered. “Cancer.”

“I bet that was hard,” Max stated it as a fact, not suffocating Billy with sympathy or pity. “How long were you together?”

Billy stared blankly at Max for a moment, while he tried to process the question. “We were together just long enough to make Charlotte, and for me to come out of the closet.”

Max snorted beer out her nose, as she choked. “Fuck Billy.”

Billy shrugged unrepentantly. “It's true. She was my best friend, and she knew I was batting for the other team before I did.”

“God Billy, how many girls did you bang until you figured it out?” Max laughed, “you left an impression on all the ladies here, I can tell you that. The fucking tears when you took off.”

Billy snorted, “well I had a raging need to prove my masculinity, to make sure Neil didn't beat me for being an ass bandit faggot. His words. Fucking dick.”

“How many times did he go after you, because of something I did?” Max asked quietly, her blue eyes brittle looking in the ambient light.

“None kid,” Billy answered simply. “He beat me because he chose to, not because of you, or you breaking arbitrary rules you didn't even know about.”

“I call bullshit,” Max stated grimly. “You were such a prick, always riding my ass about something. Doing things, saying things. Being mean.”

“You're right, I was a dick,” Billy agreed. “I won't lie Max, I did a lot of things, said a lot of things, that I regret. Things I felt dirty doing then, just to avoid a fist in my face.”

Max stared at him.

“It took me a lot of years to own up to my culpability, and the choices I made,” Billy sighed. “I won't hide from my fuck ups anymore, and that is the difference between me and Neil.” Billy grinned widely, showing his teeth, “Well, that I and I would rather cut off my own wrist than punch anybody. Now.”

Max shook her head. “Just don't go punching Neil tomorrow.”

“Trust me I won't,” Billy groaned. “I refuse to descend to his level of asshole.”

Max threw her beer bottle in the trashcan. “You've changed a lot,” she said to Billy. “You were so angry when you were here, I like this you.”

“I grew up,” Billy stood up and threw his empty bottle away as well. “It was either give up the anger, or shrivel up and be as angry as Neil.”

“I'm glad you did,” Max hugged Billy spontaneously. “Damn, I am a bit drunk I think.”

“Well, you can go sack out in Lotte's bed,” Billy stated, snagging the keys to the Geo. “She might cuddle you to death, but she's a peach.”

“She's beautiful,” Max murmured as they walked up the stairs. “I can't believe I'm an aunt.”

“She's got the best of both me and Sharla,” Billy agreed. “Mostly Sharla.”

Max was mumbling into a pillow, as she crawled into the bed next to Charlotte. His daughter, always a cuddle monster, snuggled in close.

Billy drank a tumbler of water, and brushed his teeth, before crawling into his sunflower patterned sheets. Thankfully the bed was comfortable, or he may have set the damn thing on fire. He wasn't sure if pride would be able to keep him and Charlotte in this b&b for more than a night. The decorations were hideous.

The next morning, after he showered off the remains of too much beer the night before, Billy headed downstairs, hoping to find coffee. What he found was Max, sitting in the parlor they had taken over the night before. Her Motorola StarTAC clutched between her palms, like she was holding on to it for dear life.

“What's going on?” Billy asked, on high alert.

“Mom called while you were in the shower,” Max murmured. “Neil died early this morning.”

Billy sat down hard, “he's dead?” He couldn't help but ask, needing the clarification.

“Yeah, Billy. He's dead,” Max was so matter of fact. Billy admired that. There was no room for bullshit that way.

He didn't know if he wanted to laugh or scream. Both of them at the same time. He was relieved in some ways. At least he didn't have to see the bastard, hear his poison spewing out at Billy. In other ways, he was fucking livid. He had finally grown enough to come back and confront the evil fuck. And the bastard goes and dies, getting out easy. Without having to face his son.

Billy didn't particularly believe in an afterlife. He had seen too much bad shit, too much of the evil of humanity to believe in god. Billy still hoped that Neil found himself in the lowest pit of hell. Something straight out of Dante's Inferno. He deserved to burn for the torment he had inflicted on Billy, his mom, and Max. The mockery the bastard had made of their childhood and teenage years. He had been the god damn monster under Billy's bed, in the closet.

“How is Susan holding up?” Billy asked numbly.

“She's okay. She seems like she's holding it together pretty well,” Max answered calmly. “She wants the funeral to happen in two days.”

Billy nodded. “So what do we do now?”

“I have no fucking idea,” Max answered truthfully. “I am almost tempted to grab a bottle of beer and fucking celebrate.”

“Yes, let's do that,” Billy agreed.

As they sat down, their bottles clinking together in a small salute, both of them pretended they couldn't hear all the things left unsaid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously you guys, every day it's a pleasure posting this story. Thank you!


	7. Chapter Six

**Chapter Six**   
**December 2 1996**

Billy stood in front of Neil Hargrove's grave, dressed in his finest suit, his arm around Charlotte's shoulder. Max was pressed into his other side. Not needing support, but offering it silently. Susan stood near them, but apart in her unadorned black dress. Billy didn't know what to call the look on her face. Stoic. Cold. Relieved. All of the above? She hadn't accepted any help in planning her husbands funeral, or taking care of the expenses. Billy had offered, and stood silently by as Susan did Neil proud.

More people showed up to his funeral than Billy had expected. Several people spoke about Neil, as though he was a saint. Death had a tendency to do that, to put people on a pedestal. As though he hadn't beat his son bloody on a nightly basis. Or treated women like whores to be used and discarded on whim. People behind them at the graveside service were actually weeping.

It was baffling.

Max squeezed Billy's hand, her eyes as dry as brittle bones. Just like Billy's. Susan stared straight ahead, not a hint of tears or grief on her pale face. Out of all of them, Charlotte seemed the most affected, and it had little to do with the death of a man she didn't know. Every time she flinched, Billy felt it, and knew his daughter had heard one of the snide comments people were making about him. It wasn't as many people whispering, as he had feared it would be. Only a few, men who played poker with Neil on the weekends, mostly.

Max's gang of friends was standing behind them. A wall of support between them and the whisperers. Like Max, they had all grown into themselves. There was Nancy Wheeler's brother, with his intense eyes and cheekbones sharp enough to cut somebody. That quiet kid who all the seniors had called the zombie boy, had grown up pretty. At some point in time, he had gotten rid of the bowl cut, which was a good thing. Though Billy supposed he couldn't talk, he missed his mullet some days. Lucas Sinclair had made the trip from Chicago, and his hospital rotation. He kept looking at Max like he wanted to hug her, and wasn't sure if it was welcome. Dustin Henderson in Billy's memories had been an awkward kid, with a clever mouth. Too smart for his own damn good. He had grown up well, too young for Billy's taste, but hot nonetheless. There was a tiny woman Billy didn't know, with strangely empathetic eyes and a kindergarten age kid, standing in the middle of the men.

And Steve Harrington.

And damn if he didn't look good. Long and lean in a grey suit, that brought out the man's dark brown hair, that still managed to look sex tousled. Harrington was frowning as he watched the procession, but he didn't have that pinched look he had perpetually worn that autumn of their senior year. His amber eyes were just as expressive as they had always been. Billy might have been slightly obsessed with them, at one point of his life. He had enjoyed watching them flash with fire. It hadn't taken much. Irritation, competition, fury. Billy at eighteen had been a big fan of the theory that any attention, even the bad kind, was good attention. It hadn't played out that well for him though.

Thankfully, Susan had not opted for the throwing of flowers or dirt on the coffin route. The whole ceremony seemed very sanitized, no real emotion to dirty the proceedings. Billy had some emotions to share, but these people did not need to see the rage building in his bones. He was going to have to let it out, but not here. Not in front of people. Billy refused to be the cause of Susan's fluttering hands or Max's white knuckles. Never again.

Steve's eyes met his, as the funeral came to an end and people began to leave. He didn't smile, and somehow it was still a fucking kick to Billy's stomach. Billy looked away first. He couldn't stand the idea of seeing pity in those eyes. He looked back up, to see Steve's back. He was walking away from the grave site, herding his not so young charges ahead of him, like a vigilant sheep dog. Max's hand slipped from his, as she glided away. Billy didn't think he would ever get used to how graceful she had become.

The group ahead of them stopped under a winter naked tree, and Max was enveloped into their open arms. Lucas was pulled into a hug by Max, and as the man wrapped his body around hers, Billy knew she was loved.

Susan was next to Billy, silent and stoic still.

“Will you come to the house for the wake?” Susan asked him quietly, as they watched Max. “I know you probably never want to step foot in there, but...” she trailed off tiredly.

“Of course, whatever you need,” Billy stated just as quietly. He had never held Susan's silence against her, she had been an unwilling witness for what Neil had done to him. As much of a warning for her, as a lesson for Billy. And he knows now that fear does funny things to people.

Billy leaned down to talk to his daughter. Charlotte's hand was tight in his, and he could tell she was stressing out about the awkward social situation going on around her. “Hey kid, do you want to go and relax in the car for a bit? I won't be long, and you can read or play your gameboy.”

Charlotte nodded and grabbed the keys from his hand. She sent him a beautiful smile and ran off, veering sharply to the left to avoid the group ahead of her. Billy watched her go with a grin on his face.

“You are a good man,” Susan stated matter factly, “a good father.”

“I try,” Billy laughed bitterly. “I didn't have the best example to work from.”

“Well,” Susan started, looking slightly amused, “I'm guessing you did the opposite of whatever your father would have done.”

Billy snorted a laugh, “pretty much.”

Steve glanced up from listening to whatever Dustin was saying to Lucas and Max, when he heard a laugh. Billy, who Steve had barely taken his eyes off during the funeral, was standing next to Susan Hargrove. Laughing. He was so fucking attractive. It wasn't fair, at all. Steve wanted to remember the kid from high school. The cocky bastard with anger issues, a fast fist and a sharper tongue. Steve did not want to replace that memory with this new image. Older, wiser, calmer, and the man still had an ass he could have bounced a quarter off of. Or bite.

“Yo, Steve!” Dustin called out, from where he stood. Less than two feet away, little prick.

“Yo, Dustin!” Steve mocked in return.

“We're going to Max's for the wake,” Dustin slung his arm around the red head's shoulders. “You coming?”

“I should probably get back to work,” Steve hedged, not wanting to intrude. “Who knows what the hellions will do to the substitute.”

“Oh come on,” Will said next to him. “Algebra can wait one day, how often do we all get to come together?” Eleven had her sleepy daughter in her arms, and was nodding in agreement with Will. Mike, who was never far from his family simply watched carefully as the Steve crumbled under their scrutiny.

Damn it. These kids were wily.

“Fine,” Steve groused like the grumpy old man he felt like he was becoming. “Whose riding with me?”

Max disentangled herself from Lucas and Dustin. “I”ll meet you guys there, I want to ride with Billy and Lotte.”

“I can't believe he's back,” Lucas whispered. “He was such a dick!”

Max looked angry on her step brother's behave. Which was odd for everybody. “He's changed, a lot,” Max defended hotly. “You have no idea what he went through in that house.”

Steve opened his mouth to try to diffuse the situation, only to be cut off by Eleven. “He's good people,” she smiled at Max. “I like him.”

“You haven't even spoke to him,” Lucas groused at the curly haired woman. “Jeez, El.”

Eleven raised one eyebrow at the man, as if to say 'So?'

Mike stepped forward, “Okay, seriously guys. We are all in the same town for the first time since the Fourth of July. How about we dial down the fighting.”

“I agree,” Dustin jumped in, for once serious. “And I also propose a campaign tonight.”

The entire group agrees, as Dustin had known they would. Steve couldn't help but admire his adopted brother's clever ways. Always the peacemaker, in his own way. He sure as hell had no problem riling them all up, but Dustin always tried to bring them back together.

Steve followed behind the group, just enjoying the interaction between them all. He stopped as Max stepped away, towards a gorgeous black 1967 Impala, all shiny chrome and mean muscle. Steve stepped forward to give the red headed woman a hug.

“Holding up okay?” He asked quietly, knowing that today had to be harder than Max was letting on.

“Yeah, I'm okay,” Max replied. “I know you guys don't like him, but Billy being here... It's right, somehow. Like all the puzzle pieces fit now.”

“I don't dislike him,” Steve couldn't help but reply.

“Steve, he beat your face in,” Max snorted in disbelief. “Of course you do.”

“Sure,” he answered easily. “But I've grown up too. And now I can't help but wonder why he beat my face in.”

Max flinched, “well let's just say Neil was a prick, and leave it at that.”

Steve looked past his friend, and into the front seat of the car, where a pretty young girl sat, her headphones jammed onto her head. She was watching the two of them with open curiosity on her face. Steve smiled and waved at her. The girl ducked her head, and smiled back.

“That's my niece, Charlotte.” Max told him, obviously besotted already. “Billy calls her Lotte.”

Steve wasn't disappointed or anything in the literal proof of Billy Hargrove's heterosexuality. After all, Billy hadn't made his appreciation of the ladies a secret. In fact he had flaunted it obnoxiously. It was just that in the intervening years since he had seen the guy, Steve may have had a few dreams about the guy. Dreams that had usually involved hate sex and a rough ride. It wasn't as though Steve had pined for the guy. He was simply somebody that he had wondered about over the the past decade. Steve felt like that was pretty normal. Billy had been there, on the peripheral of the night of the demodogs. Shit like that left an impression on a guy.

Steve leaned forward, bussing a kiss on the red head's cheek. “I'll see you at the house Max.” As he turned to leave, seeing Dustin, Lucas and Will standing by his sensible car, he runs into a hard, unyielding body. He knows without looking up that he has just ran into Billy Hargrove. Because that is his fucking life.

“Still hanging around girls too young for you, Harrington?” Billy drawls in that low voice that pissed Steve off at eighteen, and does something a bit different at thirty. He glances up at the man, noticing the faint laugh lines around his still too intense eyes.

“Still an asshole, Hargrove?” Steve shot back easily. It was a lot harder to rile him up these days. He spent the majority of his time with twelve to fourteen year old kids, hyped up on raging hormones and impending puberty. Shit did not faze him anymore.

Steve's breath caught, when Billy smiled at him. It was an easy smile, not the predatory showing of teeth it had been in high school. Well shit. This was not good.


	8. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Seven**  
**December 3, 1996**

Billy was stumbling, falling down drunk. For the first time in eleven years he had a bottle of whiskey in his hand, and was slugging it back sloppily. It was 1 a.m and he had been out walking for hours. Charlotte had gone with Max and her gang to play Dungeons and Dragons. Billy had encouraged her to go, and enjoy herself. He was not fit to be around.

As the day of Neil's funeral progressed, the anger building in his bones had crept up to the surface, waiting to burst out. The wake had been unbearable. People milling around Susan, pity in their eyes and curiosity in the tilt of their mouths. Asking probing questions, like it was their right to know. Some brave souls had actually had the balls to ask Billy why he had left all those years ago. He had smiled tightly, and walked away. Most of the people who had shown up to pay their respects had been decent, but it had still been too damn much.

The smell of overcooked cheese, and casseroles began to fill up the house. Like Susan would be able to eat more than one casserole at a time. What the hell was she suppose to do with the eighteen pyrex pans sitting on the cabinets, filled to the brim with tuna, chicken and green bean casseroles? Max and Charlotte had left around 5, giddy with the idea of escape. And damn if Billy wasn't jealous. He wanted to get the hell out of the house too. Around 7, it had become too much for him. The stream of people who kept stopping by was not thinning out.

Susan's dark blue eyes met his from across the room, a knowing look in them. She nodded at him, and Billy had escaped out the back door with her blessing. At first, he had just walked, needing to stretch his legs. Winter had set in Hawkins, wicked cold and dreary. His hands shoved into his pockets, his head bent to watch the pavement, and his legs eating up the pavement, Billy had walked for hours.

Billy had poison in his belly, rising with each breath he took. It needed to come out, and now that Neil was dead it had no where to go. Fuck. Twelve years, and countless life lessons later, and the douche bag was still fucking up his equilibrium. When Billy had finally looked up, it was 11 p.m and he was standing in front of the single liqueur store in Hawkins.

Billy figured Sharla would have understood this once.

Paper bag of Kentucky whiskey in hand, Billy had sat down at the park and cracked the lid open. His thoughts once more on Neil. He had things to say to the man, that would sit on his chest, like a soul sucking monster, until he got them out. But the bastard had taken away his chance for closure, most likely out of pure spite. Fucking typical of Neil Hargrove.

He doesn't know when he decided that going to the cemetery would be a good idea. The walk hadn't really cleared his head, but it had warmed his cold toes. Billy had been sitting across from Neil's plot for about 45 minutes, staring at the filled in hole. No headstone or statuary. Nothing for Billy to really focus on, other than his anger. He had no idea when he had started talking to a dead man. At first, it had been just pure anger.

“I hate you,” Billy had stated it, like the fact it was. “There will never be a time that I look back on you fondly.” Billy was pacing now, long furious strides back and forth like soldier in front of his post. The whiskey bottle was hanging limply from his fingers, the amber liquid drizzling out steadily as he raged. “And you know what is fucking sick, is that for the longest time I thought the flaw was in me, not you.”

Billy kicked a rock, and listened to it plonk in the dark. “It wasn't until I had my own baby to raise, did I realize how fucked up you were.” He turned his back on the plot, before whirling back around, almost falling down with the sudden movement. “I would rather die, than touch a hair on her head, and enjoy it the way you did.”

Billy sat down heavily, sagging with exhaustion. The exhilaration that comes with being sloppy drunk had passed, leaving him feeling empty. “I'm glad you are dead, and even if you had lived to be a 100, you'd never would have known my Charlotte.” Billy nodded sleepily, barely aware of the fat flakes of snow that were beginning to fall around him. “She is the best part of me you, and you don't get to dirty that. Not ever.”

Billy blinked hazily at the figure in front of him, unsure if he was seeing ghost or not. In Hawkins, you could never be too sure what it was you were seeing. He had only lived here a bit, and even he had known that not all was as it seemed. “Oh it's you,” Billy mumbled, before his chin hit his chest.

“Yeah, no fucking kidding,” Steve mumbled grumpily, as he hefted Billy Hargrove's limp body up off the cold earth. Billy was heavy as fuck, and his limbs were unruly as they swung around drunkenly. Steve had parked his car as close as he could to the grave site, just in case. When he had offered to go and check on Billy, when Susan had called Max's cell phone, Steve had not been expecting this. Then again, he was also not all that surprised.

Steve plopped Billy into the passenger seat, huffing slightly. He was glad that he was still physically active, and that he ran every day, or else he would be intimidated by the sheer presence Billy Hargrove emitted. Even while passed out drunk in his car. Steve poked him in his well muscled chest, “Yo, Hargrove, where are you staying?”

Billy blinked his thick, too long eyelashes, his stunning blue eyes muzzy when they finally landed on Steve. “No, I don't want to go back there,” the man sighed. “The flowers are demonic.”

“Where do you want to go then?” Steve asked, as he buckled himself behind the wheel. “Susan's or Max's house?”

Billy rolled his face across the seat, to watch Steve. “No, I don't want to go back there. Or to Max's. I want to go with you.”

Steve was pretty sure attempting to have a conversation with a drunken Billy Hargrove was like herding cats. Damn near impossible, and highly frustrating.

Until a firm, wide hand with slender fingers landed on his thigh. Caressing the seam of his jeans. Holy fucking shit. “What are you doing Billy?”

“Mm. You're pretty. I want to do you.” Billy sighed sleepily. “People are suppose to fuck after funerals,” his hand was trailing upwards suggestively “So I heard anyway.”

“Well, I'm pretty sure your wife would have issue with that,” Steve stated, as he grabbed Billy's wrist and moved his hand off his leg. “Hands off dude.”

“I don't have a wife, and don't call me dude,” Billy huffed grumpily, his arms crossed over his chest petulantly.

“Then your girlfriend or whatever,” Steve started up the car and slowly pulled away from the cemetery. The snow was starting to fall steadily, the roads turning slippery.

“None of those either,” Billy closed his eyes. “My last boyfriend dumped me, didn't like my job.”

Steve glanced at the blond. “What's wrong with your job?” He was surprised by Billy's forthrightness.

“Mmm. I guess being a cop is too dangerous,” Billy turned to look at Steve. “I mean it's not like he didn't know before we started dating. It wasn't like I pretended I was a stripper or something.”

“What did he do?” Steve asked, curious.

“He was a firefighter for fuck's sake.” Billy answered honestly. “Talk about dangerous. Those guys are generally danger junkies.”

“Do you like being a cop?” Steve turned down his street. If Billy didn't want to go back to Max's or Susan's, that left one place.

“Yeah, but man. People really suck,” Billy yawned again. “People do the weirdest things, for the strangest reasons.”

“Truer words man,” Steve agreed softly, as he pulled up to his house. The same damn house he had grown up in. His parent's divorce hadn't been the most acrimonious in the existence of divorces. It had been damn close though. Neither of them had wanted the other to get what they wanted. The house itself a matter of bitter contention. His dad refused to sell, and his mother refused to budge on her position. The solution, give the damn thing to Steve.

At least that way, if neither of them could be happy, then at least neither of them would win.

That was his family.

“You can sack out at my house for tonight,” Steve offered the sleepy eyed Billy. “You'll probably want to call Max and let her know though.”

“Mkay,” Billy agreed, stumbling out of the car. “Can I sleep in your room?” the blond asked as slyly as a light weight drunkard could.

“Yeah, no.” Steve laughed. “I'm not even going to tell you where my room is.”

“Spoil sport,” Billy sighed again, staggering forward towards the door stoop. Steve did not stare at his muscular ass, as he walked behind him.

He was a gentleman.

Damn it all to hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are all lovely! Thank you for every comment and kudos! I appreciate them all! Just a heads up, I'll be posting a bit later than I normally do the next couple of days.


	9. Chapter Eight

**Chapter Eight**   
**December 3 1996**

Steve woke to the smell of bacon sizzling, and the heady aroma of cinnamon rolls baking. It always took him too long to wake up in the mornings. He had always assumed that after a certain age, you just woke at 6 a.m, perfectly awake without the need for coffee or slapping at your snooze button three times. So far, that age has not hit Steve, so it took him a moment or two to realize that somebody was in his house. Cooking him breakfast. And he was still wearing his clothes from last night.

So not a one night stand. Which made sense, since Steve rarely brought them back to his house. Dustin sometimes stayed the night, watching movies and hanging out. He could barely boil water without ruining the stove top and the pan though, so he was out. Steve ran his fingers through his hair, and decided to brave the stranger in his house. Odds were good they wouldn't kill him, if they were making breakfast.

Steve's mouth metaphorically hit the floor, as he tried to look artlessly casual, wandering into the kitchen. To find Billy Hargrove, standing in his boxers, at his stove. In high school, the blond menace had been cut. His body a fucking work of art that had awed the girls, and intimidated the guys. In some ways it had been a primal scare tactic, and it had worked spectacularly. Now his body was just as ripped, but it was less for show. Billy didn't look like he worked out in a gym for 12 hours a day to get his muscles, but maybe stopped by there for a shower after a long as day at work. Work in which he was highly physical.

And his thighs were still as sexy as fuck. Along with the rest of him. Damn it. Steve was so screwed.

“Well hot damn,” Steve stated from the doorway. “If I had known you cooked, I would have invited you over ages ago.”

Billy must have heard him coming, he didn't seem surprised as he turned around to look at Steve. “Well, since you didn't actually invite me, I'd say we are both in the clear.” The blonde had an easy smile, and his eyes crinkled in mirth. “And I only really make two things well. Breakfast and steak.”

Steve snorts, “I bet.”

Another flash of that heart stopping smile, and Billy was turning back to the oven, bending over to check on whatever was smelling so damn fantastic. Steve diligently tried to keep his eyes off that lovely muscular ass. If the amused snort was anything to go by, he failed spectacularly. Steve was totally distracted out of his thoughts of kitchen sex and the practical application of crisco as lube, by the most heavenly aroma he had ever smelled.

“What are you making?” Steve asked as he watched Billy pour the tiny tin of frosting over something golden and gooey. “That smells about a million times better than typical cinnamon rolls.”

“Bacon wrapped cinnamon rolls,” Billy grinned. “It's decadent, sweet and savory at the same time.” Billy, who had obviously made himself at home, grabbed two plates from next to the stove and dishing them up. “They are the best damn thing for a hangover.”

Steve poured two mugs of coffee, and grabbed the orange juice from the fridge. Billy set the plates of steaming rolls down at the breakfast nook, before grabbing some forks and knifes. “Thanks for cooking,” Steve grinned down at the pastry, “it looks fantastic.”

“Thanks for taking care of my drunk ass last night,” Billy didn't waste time, sinking the tines of his fork into the flaky pillsbury dough, and sawing through the bacon to get a healthy sized bite. “I don't recall a lot, but I know I woke up in a ridiculously comfortable bed and not out in a freak blizzard.”

Steve shrugged, glancing out the window. Snow was still falling steadily. There were several inches on the ground already. “Technically this is not a freak blizzard. We normally get a lot more snow than this.”

“Well, for us west coast boys, this is a damn blizzard,” Billy grinned. “I bet Max has Charlotte out building a snowman already.”

Steve nodded in agreement. When the gang got together, there was always something fun going on. “Most likely. With hot chocolate and snow angels.” He took another big bite of cinnamon roll, washing it down with black coffee. “Damn this good.”

“I've heard about snow angels, never seen one made,” Billy commented thoughtfully. “Might be cool.”

Steve snorted a laugh. “Cold you mean.”

Billy nodded in agreement. “I'll get out of your hair after I do the dishes.”

“Dude, you cooked. I'll do the dishes,” Steve insisted. “I can take you back to Max's house when you're ready.”

“I should get back soon,” Billy drank his coffee, practically inhaling the caffeine. “Lotte's never seen snow before, I don't want to miss that.”

“Man, I got to say,” Steve trailed off for a moment. “I can't believe you are a dad.”

Billy took a moment before responding. Part of him wanted to be angry about that comment, to dig beneath the words for hidden meaning. The part of him that had never left Hawkins behind. The part that was still small, angry and scared. The bigger part of himself, the one that had grown up, took it at face value.

“Me and you both,” Billy grinned. “Charlotte is the best.”

“She was a blast at D&D last night,” Steve chuckled. “I'm pretty sure they want to adopt her into their gang, just so your aware.”

“Lotte would love that,” Billy looked out the window. “She plays Rifts with some kids back in San Fransisco, but she hasn't really connected with them.”

“Are you guys going to be staying in Hawkins for awhile?” Steve stood with his plate, resisting the urge to have seconds. And then maybe thirds.

“I'm not sure yet,” Billy answered honestly. “I'm on sabbatical from work, and Charlotte's school is pretty progressive.”The blonde cleaned his own plate, before putting it in the drying rack. “It would be nice for her to get away from California for a bit.”

Steve leaned against the counter, and watched the blond. “If I recall right, you hated this place.”

“Oh yeah, I sure as shit did,” Billy laughed, surprising himself with the lack of bitterness. “Who knows, this time it might grow on me.”

“Yeah, like a tumor,” Steve groused. “Go put some clothes on, and I'll take your princess ass to see your kid.”

“Whatever, Harrington.” Billy paused at the door of the kitchen. “Seriously though, thanks.”

After Billy went to the guest bedroom to change back into his jeans, Steve stood in the bathroom, brushing his teeth and staring at his bloodshot eyes in the mirror. He had honest to god butterflies in his stomach. He couldn't remember the last time that had happened around somebody. It wasn't just that he was attracted to Billy Hargrove. Steve genuinely liked the guy. He was smart, and obviously he loved his daughter. That was surprisingly sexy and sweet.

Who knew?

Normally Steve went for hot, and if he was being honest, dumber than a box of rocks, for his one night stands. Billy was definitely hot like burning, but he would never call the guy an idiot. And Billy did not seem like the type of guy you had a one night stand with. Dirty, mind blowing sex most definitely, as often as one could get away with. In as many positions as you could.

“Yo, Harrington, you done getting pretty?” Billy called from the hall.

Steve grinned and walked out of the bathroom, feeling all minty fresh. “You think I'm pretty.”

Billy let his gaze rake over Steve from head to toe, in frank appraisal. The heat in those blue eyes made the butterflies in Steve's stomach turn into coiling snakes, writhing in the pit of his belly. “Yeah, you'll do.”

Damn. Steve was in so much trouble. It was like he was seventeen all over again, only older and wiser. He couldn't wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, you guys rock.


	10. Chapter Nine

**Chapter Nine**   
**December 3rd 1996**

Billy spluttered as a snowball hit him directly in the face. With a roar he launched himself towards Charlotte who ran away, shrieking like a banshee. He slipped on a patch of ice that had accompanied the snow, falling on his ass. Billy could hear Max laughing, and when he glanced at his step sister, she was bent over at the waist, howling with laughter. Lotte was hiding behind Max, swaddled in a puffy coat, and bright red mittens and stocking hat. She was breathless from running and giggling.

Snow so far was a success, Charlotte loved it. Billy was okay with it. It would never be his favorite weather, but it wasn't the hell people made it out to be. After they had checked out of the B&B, his daughter had sat in Max's large window seat and drawn the scenery outside, for hours. It always shocked him how still she could be while concentrating. How she had come from him and Sharla was a bit of a mystery. Billy had always been a jitter bug, his leg jiggling and his foot tapping. Sharla had a been a dynamo, always on the move. Even when she had been in chill mode. Their kid was the complete opposite. A zen master of tranquility.

Who at this moment was mastering the art of war, winter warrior style. During her giggling, she must have scooped more snow and packed it into a hard ball. Since that was what was exploding against his face. Again. Damn, his brat child had a hell of an arm, and awesome aim. With another roar of mock rage, Billy threw himself forward, content to take Max and Charlotte down with one careful lunge. The three of them rolled around in the snow, until Billy lay on his back in the snow, gasping from shock and laughter. His sister and his daughter both shoveling the cold shit down his shirt.

His hands held up in surrender, Billy meekly stood up. Max made them all strip out of their winter gear in the mud room, before letting them into the warm kitchen. Where, against Billy's protests, made them all hot chocolate with marshmallows.

“Billy, you don't drink coffee on a snow day. Idiot.” Max had stated firmly. “It's hot chocolate or nothing at all.” Charlotte had backed her aunt's statement, and left Billy to sulk at the kitchen table, hands wrapped around a mug of cocoa.

The back door opened, and Max's gang trouped in, with Steve bringing up the rear. Billy wondered if the other man was aware that he always put himself in that position. Part guard dog, part baby sitter. It always seemed like he was herding the group somewhere. Keeping them together and safe.

It was strangely endearing.

Max was standing at the stove, stirring more hot chocolate and chattering to Lotte about Christmas tree plans. With Charlotte egging her on, and encouraging the crazy.

“All right Hargroves and Mayfields, listen up!” Dustin shouted from the middle of the group. “Its that time of the year once more. It's time to go to Merrill's Christmas Tree farm!”

“If there is only one Mayfield in the room, do you still pluralize it?” El asked Will curiously.

“I have no idea,” Will looked to Steve, as did the rest of the room.

“Seriously guys I teach math, not English, call Nancy.” Steve snorted, glancing at Billy and then away.

“Wait a damn minute.” Billy spoke up from the table. “Isn't Merrill's that creepy pumpkin patch with all those rotten pumpkins.”

Dustin shrugged, “after the great pumpkin fail of 1984, old man Merrill went the tree route instead.”

“And we have to go out during a blizzard to get a tree?” Billy continued, baffled.

“It's tradition,” Will spoke up softly. “We always go and get a tree during the first snow fall of the year.”

Billy glanced at Max and Charlotte and shrugged. Who was he to mess with tradition? “I'm game.”

“Me too!” Chirped Lotte, who was practically bouncing in place. “Our trees have always been plastic.”

The group looked aghast at this statement, which made Billy laugh.

“Who wants to ride with me?” El asked softly. “I stole the keys to Hopper's work jeep.”

Mike opened his mouth, then shut it as he looked at his wife. “I'm riding with El!” Dustin shouted excitedly,“shotgun!” Lucas, Max and Charlotte had all raised their hands as well.

“Billy, you can take my Geo, and go with Steve, Mike and Will.” Max bossed, as she shoved a stocking hat down on her head. “It has better winter tires than your Impala, and I refuse to listen to you bitch if you scratch your baby.”

Billy opened his mouth, then closed it again. Fair enough.

“El, are you sure about taking Hopper's jeep?” Mike asked carefully.

“He's watching the baby, over at Joyce's house,” El stated serenely. “He won't even miss it.”

Billy threw on his coat, and helped Lotte bundle back up in her's. She was bouncing with excitement, and he could understand it completely. He had never been part of a group in Hawkins, and it was nice. To be included so automatically, like they belonged, without hesitation or question.

They all trouped outside, and Max tossed Billy her keys. He caught them with one hand, before turning to talk to his daughter. “Listen, buckle up and stay safe.” He whispered softly. She nodded before giving him one of her fly by hugs. Over before it even began.

El stopped by Billy, giving him a long look. “I promise I'll drive safe,” she smiled. “I won't let anything happen to her.”

There was just something about El, that made Billy bite back his automatic retort. Life happened. They all knew that better than most, he thought. But something about this delicate looking woman, maybe it was her eyes, made him belief her. She would do everything in her power to keep his kid safe.

Billy nodded at her seriously, before turning back to his rag tag group. “Alright, you two in the back, Harrington you are riding shotgun.”

The two younger men began to grumble, like they were thirteen all over again. Billy snorted and looked over at Steve. “Hey.”

Steve grinned and said “hey,” back, like they hadn't made fuck me eyes at each other less than 24 hours ago. Damn he was cute.

Billy got into the driver's side and adjusted the seat. He was silent as he followed El down the curvy roads that led to the Christmas tree farm. He could hear Mike and Will talking quietly in the backseat, but he didn't let that break his concentration. It had been years since he had driven in snow, and it was a bit more nerve wracking when you didn't have a not so secret death wish.

His concentration on El's rear lights and the road was broken, as fingers trailed over the back of his hand and wrist, where it was settled loosely on the gear shift. When Billy glanced over at Steve, the other man was looking straight ahead, like he wasn't molesting Billy's digits. He grinned. Billy wasn't sure if he had ever done anything as innocent as hand holding.

It was surprisingly sweet, and unexpectedly erotic.

As fingers danced over his tendons, and drummed a beat against his pulse point, Billy couldn't help but worry he was about to get his heart broken. After all he was just visiting Hawkins. He was not here to stay. It would be a mistake to get too attached.

Wouldn't it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awn man, you guys are amazing. I promise I will catch up on responding to comments (which seriously make my day!) soon. I hope you all enjoy this short chapter! The rest will definitely be longer!


	11. Chapter Ten

**Chapter Ten**   
**December 3rd 1996**

Tree hunting with this bunch was interesting. All of them had different ideas of what constituted the perfect tree. Lucas preferred the tall, skinny trees with soft, fluffy branches. Dustin liked the tall, fat majestic trees with prickly needles. Mike seemed to only see El, and El was in search of a tiny, perfect tree. And damn it, if they didn't argue constantly about it. Billy found the whole experience fun, if frustrating. It was damn near impossible to find the perfect tree, when nobody could agree on what the perfect tree would looked like. When Billy tried to casually mention this, you would have thought he called them all foul names, and threatened to beat them up. Again.

Charlotte had just tromped through the snow, grinning like a tiny little lunatic. She seemed beyond entranced with the icy landscape, she seemed like she loved it. The weirdo. Billy didn't hate it, per se. He wasn't the seventeen year old, who had tried to brave it wearing a leather jacket and a shirt open to the waist. The weather was soothing. When it was viewed from inside a house, next to a roaring fire, with a hot chocolate in hand. This tromping around in the cold shit was for the birds. Or a bunch of idiots.

Billy glanced over at Max, who was standing next to Dustin, her hands shaping what looked to be a conical shape. She must be trying to describe the perfect tree to the veterinarian. Lucas and Will were next to him, shaking their heads like they disagreed completely. Charlotte was wandering from tree to tree, touching the bark of each one and smelling the prickly needles and fluffy boughs. El and Mike were whispering to each other, in that nauseating way of couple who were in tune with each other. Barely needing the words to communicate. Billy looked away, somewhat embarrassed by the raw intimacy of what he was witnessing. Fucking bizarre.

He found himself next to Steve, glancing at the man's placid face. “How the hell can they find a tree, if none of them can agree what it will look like?”

Steve shrugged in a lackadaisical manner. “They'll just know,” he glanced at Billy with a smirk curving his pretty lips. “Don't bother arguing, it'll only prolong the experience.”

“Been there before?” Billy grinned at the man. “So I guess we'll just stand here and look pretty.”

“And provide the muscle when they decide they need it,” Steve added, gesturing with a small axe.

“Jesus fuck, are you suppose to be waving that around?” Billy grunted and sorta creeped two inches away from Steve.

Steve just laughed, a bit manically, “trust me, better me than any of them.” He waved at the group, and Billy could see his point. “The year Dustin got to cut down the tree was a fucking disaster. Since then, I've been the axe guy.”

“I'm not sure how this works,” Billy looked around the clearing. “Why only one tree, instead of a tree for everybody?”

“It started right after high school for these guys,” Steve sat on a tree stump, “El was pregnant, and Mike was practically disowned by his parents for being a statistic. They were living in this tiny little cabin in the woods, with Hopper.”

“Chief Hopper?” Billy couldn't even imagine. “How?”

“El's his daughter. And let me tell you, Hopper almost killed Mike a dozen times that first year.” Steve laughed softly at the memory.

“Well, anyway. By the time the guys all came home from college for winter break, Mike and El were feeling pretty isolated I think.” Steve kicked the snow, looking at his pack of kids. “I mean, Hawkins hasn't changed all that much. Teenage pregnancy is still looked down upon by the locals. Assholes.”

“Lucas, Will, Dustin and Max dragged them to the tree farm,” Steve was smiling, a fond look in his dark brown eyes. “I had to drive them all, of course.”

“Of course,” Billy mocked in good humor.

“Shut up, unless you don't want to hear the story asshole.” Steve poked Billy in the shoulder. “They could only scrap up enough money for one tree. So they decided whoever had the tree, that was where Christmas is spent.”

“Who decides who gets the tree?” Billy asked, imagining fights of epic proportions every year.

“They take turns,” Steve kicked at the snow again. “That first year it was El and Mike, they needed it the most.”

“Whose turn is it this year?” Billy couldn't help but ask.

“Max's actually,” Steve stood up, stretching slowly. “Everybody decorates together, and that person hosts Christmas morning. “So if you are planning on staying for the holidays, you are going to be seeing a lot of us.” Steve grinned.

“We're staying,” Billy said casually. “I wouldn't deprive Charlotte of her first white Christmas.” It was actually a spur of the moment decision, but honestly, those worked the best for Billy. Max had asked them to stay thru the new year earlier in the day, and Billy had hedged then, uneasy. Now, it seemed like the best idea ever. It wasn't just how Steve looked in his tight denim and sex hair.

It was Max and this crazy group of kids, who accepted him and his daughter into their odd little family. Even though, he had not treated any of them right. They just acted like the past was in the past, and it was amazing.

“I found it,” Lucas crowed in delight, as the group all came to a halt in their search. Billy found himself walking that way, curious in spite of himself. Steve was next to him, as they joined the group, all huddled together. Billy tilted his head, trying to see what was so special about the tree. The rest of the friends were nodding, and slapping Lucas on the back.

“I like it,” Will stepped forward next to Lucas. “I vote yes.”

“Seconded,” Max and Mike both said at once, and then laughed. The others quickly agreed, and Steve stepped forward.

Billy's breath caught, as he watched the man release the leather protective case from the axe's sharp edge. His mouth was dry, as Steve started to slowly, methodically chop the tree down. The muscles of his back flexing rhythmically, and his ass absolutely divine in those jeans.

“Put your tongue back in your mouth,” Max whispered in his ear, laughing softly as he jumped, surprised by her proximity. He shrugged at his sister.

“Not sure I can,” Billy admitted carefully. “He is not how I remember.”

“He hasn't changed,” Max cuddled against Billy's side. “Not really. He's a bit more serious now, more responsible. But his core has remained the same. Steve's a good guy.”

“What are you saying?” Billy didn't bother dancing around this odd conversation.

“I approve, is all.” Max's eyes were twinkling, disturbing Billy even more. “I think you guys would be adorable together.”

Billy remained silent, watching as the man with the axe finished chopping down the tree. The others working around him, bundling the tree up for the trip home. Steve stood with his hands on his hips, bossing the younger men around. El was teaching Charlotte how to do something with a bit of rope. Hell if Billy could quite figure out what exactly.

“You know, over the years a lot of people have asked after you,” Max started the conversation again. “The girls you banged, the mothers you flirted with, and of course the gossip mongers.” The younger woman shook her head. “Steve was the only one who asked after you, because he was genuinely concerned about you.”

“I'm not sure what all of this means,” Billy admitted. “I mean I've been back in Hawkins for less than a week, and just buried a big part of my past.”

“That's okay,” Max whispered back. “You have time to figure it out.”

“If the invitation is still open, me and Lotte will stay for the holidays.” Billy smiled at Max. “Though I can't promise to stay past that.”

“Of course it is, you asshole,” Max snorted. “And I'll bet you'll stay in Hawkins.”

Billy cocked a querying eyebrow at the redhead. As if to ask, “oh you don't say?”

Max shrugged. “You seem at peace here, calmer.”

“We'll see,” Billy grumbled. “How about first we just make it through the holidays.”

“Sure Billy, whatever you say,” Max laughed. “We should probably go and put in a bit of effort on getting the tree home, or they'll revoke my turn hosting it.”

“Would they really?” Billy trailed off, slightly horrified at the idea of reneging and possessive over the idea of hosting the tree.

“Over my dead body,” Max answered. “Lets go get the tree home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a bit shocked that December 25th is just a few days away... Where did the time go?? As always, much appreciation to you all! I am constantly blown away by the love this story has gotten. Thank you! Hope you enjoy the chapter!


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Chapter Eleven**   
**December 15th 1996**

 

Steve hummed a Christmas song under his breath, as he shimmied around his kitchen in his underwear and socks. He had a date, a proper one, tonight. He was going out to Lulu', for dinner, with Billy Hargrove. At least, Steve was pretty sure it was a date. After all men didn't generally take male friends out to Thai noodles for a manly hang out session. Though, it had been a few years since he had had a manly hang out session. His group of friends did not generally go that route. Cold pizza and long D&D campaigns, hell yes. Football and cold beer, not so much. Sure he hung out with Chief Hopper, but coffee at a greasy spoon did not count as a date. Thank god.

Unless it was with Billy Hargrove, and then Steve would sure as hell count that as a date.

So for Steve, the concept of a date was less situational, and more person specific. That was good to know. And what was even better, Steve hadn't been the one to do the heavy lifting, for once. In every relationship he had ever had, from Nancy to the more disastrous flings in college, he had been the one to make the first move, and to keep the ball rolling. The party had been over at Max's house last night, for one of their weekly get togethers. Max and El had been planning on a girls night in with Lotte and Evie, complete with chick flicks and pedicures. And of course, absolutely no boys allowed.

Which had left Billy looking a bit woebegone, until he had seen Steve. “Well, what do you say pretty boy, wanna do dinner at Lulu's tomorrow?”

Steve had laughed, and agreed. “Sure, as long as you are paying.”

Billy had snorted, “sure princess, whatever you say. I'll pick you up around 6?”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Steve had been doing a victory dance, in his mind and may have spaced the time just a bit. Considering it was fifteen minutes to 6 p.m and he was in his boxer briefs and tube socks. He was running around like a chicken with his head cut off, trying to tug his 'fuck me' jeans on and brush his hair at the same time.

The doorbell rang, just as Steve pulled on his black t-shirt. Cussing under his breath at the punctuality of some people, Steve pulled open the door.

Only for his breath to catch.

Damn it all to hell, this was not fair.

Billy was glancing at something in the woods, and thank god, because Steve needed a moment to compose himself. Billy was in slim fitting dark slacks that showcased his thickly muscled thighs, and a button down shirt, with the collar popped open. Thankfully, it was not down to his belly button like it had been in high school. His sleeves were rolled up past his wrist, showing off his wide palms and slender fingers.

Steve swallowed the thick pool of saliva in his mouth, and swore to himself that he was not going to hump Billy Hargrove's leg. Much. Oh who was he kidding, if Billy was amenable Steve was going to do his damnedest to get some tonight.

When Steve glanced back up, Billy was grinning at him. That same cocksure grin that had had all the girls dropping their panties for him back in high school.

“You okay?” Billy asked, stepping across the door jam.

“Yeah, just running behind,” Steve mumbled, his cheeks red.

“There's no rush,” Billy stated easily, as he stepped up to Steve and kissed his cheek.

Steve refused to blush at the brush of warm, dry lips against his hot flesh. Damn the man was constantly surprising him. “Give me just a few minutes,” he mumbled, thrown completely off balance.

“No worries, I am pretty sure Lulu's isn't going anywhere.” Billy glanced around the living room, before opting to follow Steve into the kitchen. “I love your kitchen by the way, it has a great layout. It was awesome to cook in.”

“It's wasted on me sadly,” Steve laughed as he shoved one of his shoes on. “I don't cook very often, and rarely anything more complicated than a grilled cheese sandwich.”

“It's not for everybody,” Billy sat down at one of the bar stools. “I learned to cook with my mom, so I find it relaxing.”

“Neither of my parents cooked while I was growing up,” Steve hopped ungracefully on one foot, trying to get the shoe on properly. “Our old housecleaner would make my meals for a week, and hope I heated them up properly.”

“Sounds rough,” Billy stated, and Steve did not hear any mocking. He loathed the idea of playing the poor rich boy routine, but his childhood and teen years had been incredibly lonely.

“It wasn't fun,” Steve agreed. “Ready to roll?”

Billy nodded in agreement. “I'm totally ready.”

Sitting in the passenger seat of the Impala was a test of patience for Steve. He had to fight the urge to fiddle with the radio knob, and the fancy CD stereo that Billy had to have installed special in the old car. When his fingers reached for the window crank, Billy finally said something.

“Are you normally this agitated when your hungry?” The blonde asked carefully. “You are usually so chill.”

“Uh, no. I..” Steve stared straight ahead, his fingers clenched into a tight fist. “I might be a bit nervous.”

Billy cocked his head at Steve. “What's there to be nervous about? You've already seen me at my worst, now and then. And I saw you mooning over Nancy Wheeler, so pretty bad.”

Steve laughed, running his fingers through his dark hair. “That was pretty bad,” he admitted. “Though, at the time she was the love of my life, so you know. Cut a man some slack.”

“God, you two were annoying.” Billy sighed, as he glanced at his passenger.

“So everybody, and I mean everybody tells me,” Steve sighed heavily. “You should hear Dustin talk about those days.”

Billy laughed softly. “What ever happened to her and Jonathan Byers?”

“They went to New York City, and last I talked to them, Byers is trying to work up the courage to ask her to marry him.” Steve snorted, “Knowing Nancy, she'll ask him first.”

As the two of them chatted, Steve's nerves trickled away. He wasn't sure why he had gotten so nervous in the first place. First date in a while was a good enough excuse, though Billy was right. He had seen the other man at his worst. In high school and in the past month. As they got out of the car, and walked into Lulu's, Steve felt the rest of his nerves fetter away. They were seated quickly, only one other table occupied.

They both started off with Tom Kha Gai, savoring the explosion of flavors and the milky broth. When their Pad Kee Mao arrived, they lingered over it slowly. Their chop sticks clicking as they picked and choose vegetables and fried noodles. The conversation flowed easily between them. Their food got cold, as they talked long into the night. Their waiter boxing up their left over noodles, and leaving bite sized bits of exotic desserts with the check. Steve had been joking about Billy paying, but the man took care of the check absently. Too intent on Steve to even glance at the total, before handing over his card.

They walked the main street for awhile, looking at the Christmas lights, and the elaborate window displays. When the stores began to close, one after the other, Billy looked genuinely disappointed, before admitting he had better get back to Max's house before she sent somebody out looking for him. On the drive back to his house, which was comfortably quiet, Steve kept his fingers wrapped around Billy's wrist. The blonde's hand was just resting there, on the gear shift, in the perfect place for Steve to hold.

When Billy shifted into park in front of his house, Steve leaned over and kissed the man softly on his lips. What he really wanted to do was climb over, and plant himself in his lap, and just kiss Billy stupid. Like they were teenagers, parked at the levee, grinding against each other looking for sweet release. Instead, Steve pulled away before the kiss could get any hotter.

“I'll see you soon,” Steve groaned as he opened the car door. “Tomorrow, you should come for dinner.”

Steve wasn't sure why, but Billy was out of the car too, escorting him to his front door. “Yeah, I'll plan on cooking,” Billy agreed. “Lotte will want to come.”

“Bring her,” Steve mumbled, as he stood in front of his door, searching for his keys. Once the keys were inserted into the lock, he looked up at his date. He was going to say something about groceries, when Billy leaned forward and kissed him again. Pushing him gently against his front door, and devouring his mouth in a relentless assault. Everything he was about to say flew out of his mind, as Steve tangled his fingers in the short hairs on Billy's nape, and poured his all into the kiss.

When Billy broke away, his lush lips were kiss swollen and his intense blue eyes dark and heavy. He took several steps backwards, without breaking eye contact.

“Tomorrow.”

Steve watched the man go, his head thumping against the heavy wood of his door. He seriously didn't know how he was going to survive the day. Dinner tomorrow couldn't come soon enough.

He did a slight skip-jump into the house. Steve knew it had been a date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!!!


	13. Chapter Twelve

**Chapter Twelve**   
**December 22nd 1996**

Billy and Lotte were in the grocery store, shopping for what they were going to cook for dinner at Steve's. It had been planned for a week earlier, but the entire 7th grade at Hawkins middle school had come down with some form of the plague. It had included projectile vomit and explosive diarrhea. It had not been a pretty picture. Poor Steve had been in a self imposed quarantine for the past six days.

That hadn't stopped him and Billy from talking on the phone every day though.

Billy had offered to bring him soup and gatorade, but Steve hadn't wanted to be a bother. Damn martyr. So Billy had dropped off a care package, left on the front door stoop. Canned soup, several bottles of the blue gatorade and enough Advil for an arthritic 90 year old, who line dances. Steve had called him that night, sounding like death itself, and as if he had a fever. Billy was slightly freaked out. He wanted to bundle the man up, and keep him in the bedroom. Where he could feed him homemade chicken and rice soup, as well as grape juice.

This was not normal after one date. Billy should be more interested in getting into Steve's pants, not being his caretaker. Don't get him wrong. Billy wanted into his pants. He wants to get right up in there and blow Steve's mind. Repeatedly, vigorously and then rinse and repeat. Damn it.

“Dad, what are we going to cook tonight?” Lotte asked, interrupting Billy's circling thoughts.

“I was thinking your mom's potato soup,” Billy picked up a clove of garlic, and setting it in the cart Charlotte was pushing.

“Oh dad,” Charlotte giggled. “Mom always called that her man bait.”

Billy snorted. “Don't I know it. That's why she taught us both how to cook it. She wanted us to know how to catch and keep a good man.”

Charlotte snorted, and reached for a yellow onion. “So you're serious about Steve?”

Billy glanced at his daughter, suddenly worried about how this might be effecting her. “I think so.” Billy waited a moment, 'how do you feel about that?”

“I like him,” Lotte didn't hesitate to answer. “I like Hawkins too,” She gave him her innocently sly look. “Are we going to stay here?”

He hesitated before hedging. “Maybe? Would you like to?”

Charlotte stood in front of the potatoes, staring blankly at the bags, before grabbing the Yukon gold. “Yes.”

Billy waited her out.

“I'd miss the ocean, and being in the place where mom is buried,” Charlotte whispered. “But I think if we went back, I'd miss this place and these people more.”

“Okay, then let's do it.” Billy knelt in front of her, so he could be eye to eye with his daughter. “I'm game.”

Charlotte smiled shyly, her eyes bright with excitement. “Good.”

Billy stood and reached for shredded carrots and a celery heart. “We can't stay with Max forever though, so we'll have to start looking for a house.”

“And a dog?” Lotte slotted in next to him at the cart. “Please?”

“Or maybe a goldfish?” Billy hedged again.

“I heard cats are self sufficient,” Charlotte smiled winningly. “And it'll help me become more responsible.”

“House and job first, then we'll discuss animals.” Billy groaned dramatically. “Jeez kid.”

Billy and Charlotte finished the grocery shopping, talking animatedly about what they wanted to do in Hawkins. His daughter wanted to focus more on her art. She wanted to play more with paints and pastels, rather than pencils. Billy was determined to find a house that had room for a studio for her. He also wanted a garden and a place to put a grill.

And damn it. He wanted a dog and a cat too.

After they packed up the car with the trimmings for Sharla's potato soup, Billy dropped Charlotte off at Max's, to hang out with her aunt. He was sure that his daughter was already chatting her ear off, about how they were going to be staying in Hawkins. And if he knew anything about Max, his sister would have house listings for him by the time he got back. Billy wasn't going to waste time. First things first, he would have to secure a job.

He pulled into the parking lot of Hawkins Police Department, and looked at the small building. When he had been eighteen, it had four employees. Chief Hopper, two deputies and Flo. There was a strong possibility that they would not have room on their payroll for another one. If that was the case, Billy would not get discouraged. If he had to sling oil changes again, until he found something, he would. Though, he loved being a police officer. It had been the thing, other than Charlotte, that had given him purpose. And damn it, Billy was good at it.

Billy jumped when somebody knocked on the Impala's window. Chief Hopper was standing beside his car, a cigarette hanging from his lip. “You going to sit here all day or come in?”

Billy snorted quietly at himself. Awesome, caught wool gathering by the man he wanted to impress enough to get a job. He got out of the car, and reached out to shake the man's offered hand. “Good afternoon Chief.”

“You can call me Jim, kiddo.” The man suggested, shaking his hand firmly. “Though nobody ever does.”

“I'm Billy Hargrove,” he started only to be cut off.

“I remember you,” Hopper released his hand. “You were hell on wheels as a teenager.”

“Yes sir, I was.” Billy felt a bit sick to his stomach at the memories. He had really hoped this man would not remember him at eighteen. It was not a good first impression.

“So was I,” The Chief shrugged. “We all grow up, some sooner than others.” Hopper sat on the bench outside the police station, with a metal ash bucket propped up next to it. “I also heard you are a murder cop in San Fransisco.”

“I am,” Billy agreed. “Though, I'm planning on moving back here,” Billy paused for a moment to take a deep breath. “I was hoping you might have an opening on your force.”

“Well, son.” Jim Hopper looked at Billy, his eyes intense. “First things first. It's not really a force. It's mostly me and two idiots. Flo runs the place.”

Billy laughed, and wished for a smoke himself. Just for something to do with his hands.

“But as it happens, I might have an opening.” Hopper continued. “The county is considering increasing my budget next year, so check back January 1st.” Hopper glanced at Billy. “Since you have experience, and I wouldn't have to train you, I think you'd be a pretty good sell. Though I'll warn you, this place is pretty boring.”

Billy didn't air pump in victory like he wanted to, but it was a damn close thing. “Thank you Sir.”

“I'm glad to see you back, son.” Hopper stood, throwing his cigarette butt into the canister. “Come see me next week, and we'll get it sorted.”

It would be a lie to say that Billy didn't float home. He totally did.

Two hours later, Charlotte and Billy rang Steve's doorbell, their arms loaded down with grocery bags. Steve answered the door, still looking a bit wan, with bags under his eyes, and his normally tan complexion pale. He stood back to let them, resplendent in plaid flannel pajama bottoms and a blue henley.

Billy didn't even hesitate. He pressed a kiss to Steve's lips as he passed by him into the kitchen. Charlotte giggled, and blushed at the chaste kiss, and practically skipped ahead.

“Dude,” Steve rasped. “I'll get you sick.”

Billy pressed the back of his hand to Steve's forehead, “you don't have a fever anymore, and I am not worried.”

“Then drop those bags off in the kitchen, and come back here and kiss me like you mean it,” Steve grumbled.

“King Steve,” Billy laughed. “I was wondering when he was going to show up.”

“Asshole,” Steve grumbled as he followed the blond into the kitchen.

“You bet,” Billy grinned back at him, running a hand down the man's hair, smoothing his bed head. “I'm glad to see you are feeling a bit better.”

“I still feel like death,” Steve whined.

“I bet you do,” the blonde turned to his daughter. “Me and Lotte are going to make you the best dinner you've ever had. You'll feel better in no time.”

Steve sat perched on a stool, his elbows on the breakfast nook as he watched father and daughter. Small, competent hands dicing an onion, as Billy peeled potatoes and minced garlic. Soon the smell of garlic, leeks, onions, celery and carrots sauteing on the stove top permeated the kitchen. Billy and Charlotte kept up a steady stream of chatter, keeping Steve involved the entire time. His mouth was watering, as he watched the two of them prepare the broth and add the peeled and diced potatoes.

For the first time in his memory, this house felt like a home.

And damn it if Steve didn't feel a bit like a drama queen for even thinking it. His parents had been absent, physically yes, but also emotionally. When he had dated Nancy Wheeler, it had come a bit closer to feeling less empty. And then again with the gang. But this. These two people in his house, it felt right. That was a pretty terrifying realization to have, especially after one date. With a man who wasn't even staying in Hawkins.

Steve was pulled back into the moment, Billy was standing in front of him, a small smile playing on his lips. “Come on Harrington, let's go watch a movie, while the soup cooks.”

Sitting on the couch, snuggled up with Billy Hargrove watching Mars Attacks!, while Billy's daughter sat in a recliner drawing in her sketchbook was surprisingly comfortable. He had seen the movie before, and he was relaxed enough to doze off on occasion. Billy's large hand stroking through his hair was not helping him to stay awake. Half way through the movie, Billy got up to go and check on the soup, and to fry up some bacon crumbles.

Steve sat up a bit straighter, and tried to pay attention to the ridiculous film. Soon enough his attention was caught by Charlotte, who was watching him openly.

“Everything okay, Lotte?” Steve asked, before taking a sip of blue gatorade.

“Yeah,” Charlotte answered, still staring. “Do you like my dad?”

Steve blinked a couple of times at the girl, thrown by the question. “I do, very much.” He finally answered, deciding honesty was the best policy in this situation.

“Good. Cause he likes you a lot too,” Lotte said simply. “My dad deserves to be happy.”

“He seems pretty happy already,” Steve threw out, carefully.

“He is, but he deserves to be even happier.” For Charlotte it seemed pretty simple. Her dad deserved the absolute best.

Steve blinked some more. He knew he was sick, and had been delirious a couple of times this past week, but it seemed like Charlotte was working up to giving him a shovel talk. And that was a first. “He does deserve the best, and to be the happiest,” Steve agreed carefully.

Charlotte nodded in agreement, “Me and daddy have decided to move here, forever. And adopt a dog.” The girl looked a little devious when she said that last bit. “And I've decided you can date my dad. As long as you don't break his heart.”

Steve just stared at the girl. He was glad to have her approval, but it was slightly terrifying too. “We've only been on one date,” He said carefully. “I don't know...” Steve trailed off, cause he did know. He really wanted to date Billy. To know him more. To sleep with him, and wake up with him.

The girl looked so wise, as she stared up at him with her too blue eyes. “Yes you do.”

Damn it. She was right.

“Lotte, are you being mean to Steve?” Billy asked from the doorway, his eyes darting between his daughter and Steve.

“No dad,” Charlotte sighed, as though the two of them were idiots. “I was just telling him that we are moving here.”

“That's awesome,” Steve agreed with the girl, smiling at her devious grin. “Is it time to eat?”

Over the best damn potato soup Steve had ever tasted, Billy told him all about talking to Chief Hopper and the house listings Max had found for them. Charlotte had chimed in from time to time, telling them all about the dogs and cats she had played with at Dustin's office.

Steve didn't jump when slender fingers wrapped around his wrist. He just turned his hand over, and held on.

Best Christmas ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovelies!! I hope you guys all enjoy! I will be posting an epilogue. I can't promise it for tomorrow, but I will try. And let's keep our fingers crossed that we can get to some smut, and these guys stop cockblocking me! 
> 
> I hope everybody is having an awesome holiday!


	14. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The epilogue is finally here! I hope everybody enjoys! Quick warning, it went a little further into the explicit than I was expecting when I rated this story. As a whole, I don't feel the story needs an Explicit warning. Please let me know if you disagree.

**Epilogue**   
**New Years Day 1998**   
**Hawkins Indiana**

Billy hummed a bit of Metallica under his breath, as he removed another bulb from the tree. He had been surprised when the gang had decided that he, Steve and Lotte would be hosting the tree this year. Later, in bed, Steve had confided that it had actually been Dustin's turn to have possession of the tree. While Billy and Lotte had been busy invading Steve's house, with a horde of belongings, the gang had unanimously decided that the new family would take ownership of the tradition.

Exhausted from moving into Steve's too big for one person mansion, Billy had trudged along on that year's tree hunt. He had been working a rash of petty burglaries along main street for a month, and needed just one glorious day off. He wouldn't lie, he had not been paying a bit of attention to the discussion, staring at the white fluffy snow falling in steady spurts. His mind was blissfully numb with tiredness. Between planning a move, packing up his and Lotte's scattered possession, and working a case, he was fucking beat.

And then Billy had seen the most beautiful tree.

The pine was tall and fluffy, and so majestic. He could imagine it in the living room, cozy with a crackling fire and candles. Steve laid out naked in front of it, while Billy played Santa, fondling stockings and peppermint sticks, looking for a place to stick his package.

El stopped next to Billy. “That's perfect,” the heavily pregnant woman said quietly. Billy glanced at her. Normally she was an advocate for the short, squat trees being the most wondrous of trees. This tree was neither of those things. He put his arm around the woman, letting her lean against him as she caught her breath. Over the past year he had grown incredibly close to this family of misfits. Considering them his. Which he knew was terribly possessive of him, and he didn't care a whit.

Mike, ever attentive to his wife, stopped next to them and gazed at the tree too. “It's lovely.”

Dustin and Lucas were arguing ahead of everybody, as Max laughed at them. Forever stuck in a love triangle those three. Billy snorted softly under his breath. Even though anybody with eyes could see that Will was half in love with Dustin Henderson. It was so obvious it was painful to watch at times. This group was so damn loyal, not to mention a bit incestuous at times. They were so insular, that it was obvious that they didn't need anybody else. Which made it weird, and strangely amazing, when one was taken in so easily. Like Billy and Charlotte. Before he had known it, the tree had been chopped down with Steve's trusty axe and bundled on top of Billy's sheriff's department jeep.

Which had only marked the beginning of their strange and wonderful first holiday together. Yes, Billy had been apart of Christmas last year, but he had watched it through the eyes of an outsider, who wanted to be part of this odd group of kids.

This year he was apart of it. And it was damn amazing.

Strong arms wrapped around Billy's waist, as he took another bulb off the tree, before wrapping it in tissue paper. “Hey,” Steve murmured. “Want some hot chocolate?”

“Only if we have some of those tiny marshmallows,” Billy groaned as Steve rasped his beard against his shoulder.

“Well shit. I guess it's all for me then,” Steve deadpanned, before releasing Billy. “You ate them all last night, gobbled 'em up like a pig.”

Billy snorted, and elbowed Steve in the gut. A gut that was not getting soft at all in his old age. “Asshole.”

“Yep,” Steve ran his fingers through Billy's curls, before sitting on the sofa. “I'll just sit here looking pretty, drinking my hot chocolate while you finish that.

Billy would have complained, but honestly. He had seen how Steve thought packing a box should go. His organized brain could not handle the chaos. Billy would rather the man not touch a damn thing, unless it was to take the trash to the curb. Steve took a sip from his ridiculously large mug, before casually slinging one leg over the other.

“Though, seriously Hargrove. Is this really how we are going to spend the next hour or so that Lotte is at Will's house?”

Billy turned and raised an eyebrow at his lover, his hands cradling a delicate ornament. “Do you have a better idea?”

“How about we do the slow bone in front of the fire?” Steve grinned up at the unimpressed look on Billy's face. “I could go and dig the old bear fur rug out.”

“How about no,” Billy snorted before placing the ornament in a box. He turned around. “ I am not having sex with you, under the Christmas tree, again. Do you remember what happened last time?”

“We knock over the tree once, and you ban all Christmas tree sex?” Steve whined.

“What is this _we_?” Billy stepped forward, “I was barely involved.”

Steve gave his exasperating lover a lecherous look. “Tell my ass that.”

Billy sat down next to Steve on the sofa, not quite cuddled into his side. “We could always go upstairs.”

Steve sighed dramatically and put his mug down on the table. “I remember the Billy Hargrove that was roaring to fuck, whenever and wherever.”

Billy nuzzled under Steve's ear, before nipping the lobe, viciously. “I don't recall you complaining this morning.”

Steve manfully bit back the groan that wanted to escape his lips. “That was this morning.”

Billy pulled back. “Well I guess I'll just continue to pack up the tree,” he sighed. “I wouldn't want to force my attention on anybody.”

Steve yanked him back, rolling him bodily over until Billy was supine on the sofa, with a horny Steve perched between his thighs. “Who said anything like that?” He mumbled before leaning down to kiss the corner of his lover's lush mouth. They spent what felt like hours making out on the sofa. Trading kisses like they were in high school again, content to just rub against each other. Panting hotly into each other's mouth, as the began to grind their trapped cocks together.

Billy pulled back, his hand gripped in Steve's unruly hair at the nape of his neck, forcing him to pull back as well.

“What?” Steve gasped, as he strained to move closer, eyes on the plush, swollen lips he had been worshipping.

“I want to go swimming,” Billy stated.

Steve stared at his lover blankly. “Now?”

Billy laughed, and pushed Steve back so he could stand up, on admittedly shaky legs. He stripped off his henley and pushed his jeans down. His boxer briefs were barely containing his straining dick. He bent over to pick his discarded clothes up, folding them as he sauntered to the patio door. Billy could feel Steve's eyes on his ass the entire time.

“Come on Steve, let's go swimming.” Billy murmured again, as he opened the door.

Steve felt a bit like Pavlov's dog. There wasn't a lot he wouldn't do when Billy smiled like that. That half cocky, half knowing curl of lips that sent bolts of lust through his body. He had no idea how he had gotten his clothes off, or even into the steaming water. But there he was, pressed against the wall of the pool, his clothes scattered on the cold pavement, with Billy between his thighs.

Steve stared up into night sky, blankly seeing the snowflakes falling, but not feeling them on his overheated skin, as Billy nipped his throat and collarbone. This was definitely different from when the two of them fucked in the shower. For one thing, Steve didn't feel like he was going to slip and fall, crack his head, and have Lotte come rushing into the room to see them in their full glory. For another, it wasn't as rushed. Billy had his lips wrapped around one of Steve's nipples, as he bit playfully at the nub. His other hand was traveling down his chest, to play with other bits. That's what it felt like. Playing. It was amazing.

Billy's lips made their way back up Steve's throat, until they were at his ear. Rasping roughly. “Are you cold?”

Steve blinked dazedly. Cold? He was burning up. “No,” he mumbled his hand reaching for Billy's hips.

“Good, turn around for me then,” Billy mouthed at his jaw. “Trust me.”

And that was just it. Steve did trust Billy. He trusted him more than he had anybody, in a really long time. And Billy knew it, and never abused it. He turned around and sighed, as he was hoisted out of the water. His check was pressed into the cold concrete, and his nipples scrapped the rough pavement, and he squirmed in anticipation.

Wet hands pried his asscheeks apart, a shockingly hot mouth on his hole. Steve moaned into the cement, as Billy licked and nipped at his most private area. One of his feet, splashed water in agitation, as he tried not to squirm too much, and scrap his hard prick on unforgiving pavement. Billy seemed to enjoy his agitation, his tongue was fucking into him faster and faster, one rough hand pressed into the small of his back to keep him still.

Steve was panting harshly, as he struggled not to grind into the cold concrete. He wanted Billy's dick in him, but he never wanted the man's tongue to leave his ass. Ever.

“Come back to me babe,” Billy whispered as he pulled away. “Come into the water.”

Steve was more than a bit dazed, as he let Billy pull him carefully back into the pool. The hot water felt good, but not as amazing as the silky slide of Billy pressed against him once more. Steve pushed his shoulders back against the wall, and kept his eyes locked on Billy's hooded blue eyes, as his lover folded him in half. He had Steve's long legs hooked over his strong arms, and determination written across his face.

It was with one long smooth glide, that Billy's dick entered him. It wasn't with the ease of the well lubricated, a bit rougher but no less enjoyable. Every push was slow and deliberate, Billy's legs spread wide to accommodate both of their weight. It felt like his lover was reaching places never touched before. Which was ridiculous. Billy had touched him everywhere in the past year. Steve moaned, as his head fell back. He tried to meet each of Billy's thrusts with one of his own, but it was difficult.

Finally they found a rhythm. Water was rocking them together, and pulling them apart. Billy was mumbling into his throat, his words undistinguishable, but Steve still understood. He was loved.

Steve clutched at Billy's curling blonde hair, as he came. He shook with the force of his orgasm. His lover bit his shoulder, as he followed him over the edge of pleasure.

It was five minutes, or an hour later. Billy and Steve were still cuddled up against each other in the hot, steamy water. Both of their legs were still shaky with pleasure. Steve nuzzled into Billy's hair. “So genius, how do we get back into the house without freezing?”

“Not a damn clue,” Billy mumbled sleepily. “I think you should probably carry me though. I did all the hard lifting.”

“Asshole,” Steve muttered fondly as he prepared to get out of the pool.

“You know it,” Billy murmured back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are amazing. Thank you for every Kudo and Comment you have taken the time to give this story.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be posting one chapter a day until Christmas Eve! I hope everybody enjoys! Many thanks to Ferus37 for looking the story over for me! Happy Holiday!


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